Book Two: The Earth Remains Forever
by Adamantwrites
Summary: I had no intention to write a 2nd story about Adam and Sigrid but here it is. They are still in Australia and as I said, it is a continuation of their life together.
1. Chapter 1

In the first story, I used Townsville as the place they could visit to buy supplies, etc. Well, my geography was off so instead of Townsville, I am now using a town called Barakula – it is in the correct geographical direction.

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**Book 2**

**1**

_December 26, 1869 _

_Käraste Far,_

_I regret having taken so long to write home but please know I am well as is Adam. We have a small house in the area of Queensland on quite a few acres and good friends in Mr. and Mrs. Morgan who live nearby. Each morn as I rise to take on the day's work, I think of the stories you told me about traveling to America with my mother to whom you had been betrothed since a young boy; I know how hard it has been for me to leave you and all I knew behind, so I can only imagine the difficulties the two of you faced. Together, you started a life in the wilderness of Nevada. I then realize I should not complain of any burden I may bear as this is the life I chose for myself._

_Do not take that to mean I am unhappy ~ I am not. It is only that I am often overwhelmed by how much there is to be done on a farm, but I also have the help of a young Aboriginal woman name Nama who does the laundry and in return, she would rather have a jug of fresh milk or a plump chicken than money. She knows much about herbs and roots and is teaching me the ways of healing. I have also learned, through the patient lessons given by my husband, how to milk a cow. Madrigal, Mrs. Morgan, taught me how to skim the cream and from taking my turn at the churn back home, under Mrs. Hellström's guidance, I make butter. I am becoming a good housewife so please let Mrs. Hellström know that I have put to use all she has taught me about hushållning although I will never be as capable as she. _

_Our sea voyage was pleasant enough although I found that I am sensitive to the motion of the ship and was ill for a bit. The only unfortunate incident was that I was slightly injured when The Alliance, our ship, stopped to allow the crew to go ashore to gather fruit and fresh meat. Adam and I went ashore as well. There are feral hogs on the island and I was injured by one but the ship's doctor, Dr. Beaumont, took very good care of me and I am well recovered. Adam shot the beast and the crew of the ship was much happy with the additional fresh pork._

_Unfortunately, when Adam traveled to Dalby to file the papers for the property and the silver mine, he caught a fever which ran for a few days but he quickly recovered, I am pleased to report, with no aftereffects. _

_I hope your Christmas was joyous and the new year will find you and Mrs. Hellström well. Give her my fondest regards. I pray for you both every day and send my wishes for happiness and prosperity. Our Christmas was happy and we shared a feast with our friends at their home. They slaughtered one of their hogs and roasted it on a spit in the yard. I made two lilly pilly berry pies and cooked a large amount of green beans from my own garden. I also baked a loaf of bread and we had honey from a hive Adam found. Adam brought bourbon he had dearly purchased in Dalby when he was there on business. Anything that is imported ~ and that is almost everything ~ is high in price. Adam and Caleb Morgan brought the table and chairs outside and we ate under the trees and the open sky, lighting candles as the late afternoon drifted into early evening. Under the stars, Adam played his guitar and we sang carols, some so tender they brought me to tears at the memory of home and the many Christmases we celebrated. But Adam and I and our friends, toasted the blessed day of our Lord's birth and also each other and those we loved we had left behind. I must say I missed snow as it was warm here as Christmas is celebrated during Australia's summer._

_Although our small house serves our needs, Adam is working on plans for a larger home and has ordered material. Our friends, the Morgans, are also considering building a proper home as well. Adam's intention is to design a house in such a manner that extra rooms may be added as needed. It is difficult to have building supplies delivered this far out and according to Adam, there are not many proper trees for building homes and even if there were, there is the matter of cutting. Also, there is no sawmill nearby. I understand the limits of building a house here similar to those in Virginia City or on the Ponderosa. But along with the ordered bricks and wood, there are stones of various shapes and sizes and Adam has collected many. We have a great pile of them about fifty yards away from the site of our future home. I have asked Adam not to concern himself with any immediacy of building a home as I feel he is trying to do far too much. I have suggested he hire a man to help about the farm but he seems averse to the idea. But Adam will be 40 years old this coming year and he often complains of aches._

_I ask one thing of you, min far, and that is please share the contents of this letter with Mr. Cartwright. Inform him that Adam will write soon but as I said, he works very hard and is often so worn that he retires after dinner. He cannot even find the time to read his beloved books but I am hoping things will soon become easier for him. Adam sends much love to his father and brothers._

_Min far, I know you had reservations about my taking Adam as my husband but he has shown himself to be kind and good. I care for him more with every passing day. _

_I must now close my letter as it is very late and my eyes grow weary. I will write again soon. With this letter, I send my great affection and the respect you deserve for all you have done for me. I do not know quite how long it takes for a letter to travel from here to Nevada but there is a store in Barakula, a nearby town, which also serves as post office. Once every two weeks, the mail from Barakula that is destined for delivery by ship, is accepted by a rider who delivers it to Brisbane where it is sorted and then loaded on ships, one of them to make its way to San Francisco. From there it is delivered to Nevada. As you can see, it is a rather convoluted process to mail a letter or receive one. _

_But rest assured that all is well with me and with Adam. If you choose to write, and I hope you do as I long for word, Adam wrote the return address and said it will guarantee any mail addressed such will reach us. _

_Din hängivna dotter, Sigrid_

Ben Cartwright, overwhelmed with a mixture of relief and new-found worries, held the letter with shaky hands and looked at it again. Adam was well and so was Sigrid. It had been over five months since they had left for Australia and this was the first word he had of them. Almost half of a year. Although the letter was a comfort, it was dated the end of December. Had anything happened to Adam, to Sigrid, in the interim? Would it take another six months for him to know?

"Alvar, is Sigrid one to understate anything, to try to make things sound better than they really are to spare you any grief?"

"What is it you are asking me, Ben?" Alvar's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Do you know something about Adam I do not? Are you asking if min dotter is unhappy with Adam, that he is actually a bad husband, but to me, her father, she says he is a good one? Do you think your son beats her?"

"No - nothing like that. I know my son and he wouldn't mistreat any woman, especially not his wife. I was thinking of Adam's illness as well as Sigrid's injury – I just wondered if she is telling the whole truth. It seems she is worried about Adam and his working too hard and …"

"You think my Sigrid is a liar?" Alvar's face flamed with anger.

"No, of course not. That wasn't what I meant at all." Ben realized he was only making matters worse between the two of them; he needed Alvar's good will. "Thank you, Alvar, for bringing over the letter." Ben disliked being beholden to Alvar Eklund but it had been a kindness for him to ride to the Ponderosa as Sigrid had asked. "May I keep it for a few days for Hoss and Joseph to read? They've been looking at prime stock near Sweetwater but should be back in another week, and I promise to return it to you after they've read it."

"No. It was my dutiful daughter who wrote and the letter is addressed to me. I shall take it with me. You can tell your sons about their brother." Alvar stood up from the settee where he had sat, and put out his hand.

"Alvar, I just want to…." Ben couldn't bring himself to part from the only news he had received about Adam. He wanted to read it over and over, see his son's name written in Sigrid's elegant script. "When I receive a letter from Adam, I'll allow you to keep it for a few days." Ben realized he was bargaining with Alvar, using the love of their separate children as the stake.

Alvar said nothing, just stood with his hand out.

"All right. Just let me write down the address. I want to write them…both." Alvar nodded and dropped his hand, watching as Ben walked over to his desk, pulled out paper and copied down _Mr. , c/o Morgan-Cartwright Mining Co., Barakula P.O., Queensland, Australia_. Then he slipped the letter back into the envelope, walked to Alvar and handed it over.

Alvar slipped the letter in his jacket pocket. "Goodnight, Ben." He put his hat on and as he reached the large front door, Ben called out to him.

"Alvar, why is it you dislike my son so? He's never done you harm."

Alvar slowly turned. "He took away Sigrid. That is enough."

"You've disliked him since he was a boy working the bellows in the smithy and I've never understood it; Adam rarely ever spoke so if he offended you with his silence…"

Alvar stepped further into the room, breathing heavily. "His silence. No, not his silence, his superiority. Your boy, Ben, missed nothing and he judged what he saw, judged me. Every time I looked at him, I saw it in his gaze, as if he is one to judge others.

"And then he came into my home, he with his strong hand in a soft glove, and took min dotter, my Sigrid, away from me, all she knew and now she lives in a state of drudgery, of wifely obedience to him! Not even in the church were they married! He has shamed her and shamed me!"

"Alvar, you just had a letter from her. Sigrid had nothing unkind to say about Adam. If he wasn't treating her well, she would have told you – at least hinted at it and not asked you to share the letter with me. But she told you Adam was a good husband." Suddenly Ben knew. "Oh, I see. You really hate Adam because he was there when you led the mob to string up that man who you claim assaulted your wife. That's it, isn't it? He saw you at your worst and you fear he may tell Sigrid about it, about how you led the murderous mob."

Alvar's chest heaved. "I have no regret over what I did. None. And if Adam is so spiteful as to work my daughter against me, then may his soul be damned!" Alvar stormed out of the house and pulled the large door shut behind him.

Ben dropped down on the settee. He had gone too far. He knew that whether Sigrid asked her father to share another letter or not, Alvar would not. Not now. He sighed deeply. The night was mild for March, not necessarily a good sign as it may predict an unusually hot summer. But the fireplace flamed up as if matching Ben's anger, and Ben felt the heat on his already hot face. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain of loneliness – of emptiness. There was not another voice in the house. Hop Sing had left for Chinatown, ostensibly to visit his relatives, but was, in all probability, playing fan tan and losing his month's pay. Hoss was gone to Sweetwater with Joseph, and over a year ago, Joe had moved his wife and first daughter, Daisy, into the house he had built on the edge of a huge open area, the tall pines standing behind their home. And Adam – oh, how he missed his eldest.

If only, Ben thought, he and Alvar could be friends since they were now joined by their children's marriage. They could have sat and sipped coffee and eaten a slice of Hop Sing's lemon cream cake and talked about…what? About Adam and Sigrid and the aching loss for them both. But they weren't friends.

Ben stood up and slowly walked to the door and threw the bolt. In the morning - yes, in the morning he would ride over to Joseph's and Marianne's and visit with Daisy, the plump-cheeked, curly-haired toddler, and the new baby, Marigold, whose fuzz of hair was as yellow as a canary's wings. He would hold them and fuss over them and Marianne would indulge her father-in-law and invite him to stay for lunch and perhaps, even dinner. Yes, Ben decided, that's what he would do. And then he went about turning down lamps and securing the ranch house for the night. But when it came to the lamp on his desk, he paused. He sat down and pulled out paper and picking up his pen, he dipped it in the ink and dated the letter –

_March 19, 1870. _

_My Dear Sigrid and Adam, _

_How happy I was to read your letter this evening…._

~ 0 ~

Adam sat on the front porch. Sigrid had gone to bed over an hour ago. He was too tired to read or play a game of solitaire and sleep eluded him, so he sat on the top porch step, looking out over the property – Cartwright property. The night was cold so he had slipped on his trail coat before walking into the night air.

_"__I know you don't like to be alone and I don't like it either so I've hired one of the older miners, Daere Goron, to stay here. He's a Cornish miner, stubborn and hard-working and honest. He was injured on the job so I was going to pay him half wages until he recovered but he refused. So he can earn full wages doing small things around here – whatever you set him to. And you have Nama coming during the day so you won't be alone. I'll leave the older rifle here and you have the .22 – just don't sleep with it under your pillow – liable to blow your head off."_

_Sigrid ignored the comment. Adam stood behind her as she dried the dishes. "But over a week, Adam. It's only taken three – four days before to go to Dalby and return. And your birthday is in 2 days. I had planned a small party – just us and the Morgans."_

_"__Sigrid, my birthday celebration can wait – I don't need one anyway; it'll just remind me how old I am. And I told you about this trip at least a month ago."_

_"__You said you would be going but didn't say when. Now you tell me just when I was…" Sigrid stopped. Adam had ruined all her plans and she was angry with Caleb Morgan as well. He should have said something to Adam about the party, told him not to leave quite yet for Dalby. _

_"__I'm taking two other men along and we're using the larger wagon from the mine and four horses. The machinery is important. How can I make you see that? It's heavy and expensive so coming back will be slow-going. We have to be careful with it. I wish you wouldn't complain about things that have to be done."_

_"__Yes, I know, Adam, I know how you feel about all that, and I made up my mind months ago that I wouldn't say a thing about you going away on business for the mine, but this is your birthday and I should have been consulted. And, no, I'm not complaining…." _

_"__It sure as hell sounds like you are." Adam walked out and sat in the big chair, picking up his book off the floor beside it. All day he had dreaded giving Sigrid the news he would be gone and chastised himself for being a coward. The kitchen lamp went dark and then Sigrid walked past Adam as he stared at the pages of the book, the words basically a blur, and went up to the loft. Adam glanced after her and then closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the chair. _

_All the day's troubles circled in his mind – the lack of proper timber for shoring in the silver mine. Quite a few Cornish miners had emigrated to Australia and many of the older ones knew quite a bit about mining, as much as he, and a few, maybe more. And one of them, their chosen spokesman had said, "We dasn't delve in a mine that might easily crumble about our ears should one of us sneeze." _

_Faced with their stiff, defiant faces, Adam wanted to knock them down, beat their faces with his fists, and rage at them that he was doing all he could to ensure safety and they could delve their way to hell. But the worst was when one of the miners, a man who looked many years older than Adam with his heavily lined face and stooped posture, stated that as old as Adam was, he could well understand that the few years he other miners had left were all the more valuable; they would take no chances for another's enrichment. Adam had sucked in his breath and told them to go to the copper mine and work there until he had the proper timbering. Never before had he faced the end of his years in that manner. How many years did he have ahead of him? Ten? Twenty? And he was facing his fortieth birthday. His father was in his 60's but that was no assurance that he would live as long. _

_Adam's eyes opened. He heard Sigrid's muffled sobs from the loft. He considered ignoring her but the more she cried, the angrier he became. He climbed up to the loft and paused on the last step – damn the low ceiling. _

_"__Sigrid, please stop crying. You know I can't bear your tears. I have to go tomorrow and that's all there is to it. Can't you make it easier for me?"_

_"__Of course, Adam. I'll make it easier for you – everything should be easy for you." And she became quiet and still. In disgust, he climbed back down._

He heard the door open behind him and sensed Sigrid standing to his right.

"Adam, when are you coming to bed?"

"Soon."

She crouched down beside him and from the corner of his eye, he saw the over-sized shawl she had bought from Mr. Naples. Adam had asked her why she hadn't just knitted herself one and she said because the fabric of the shawl was so soft and lovely – a flowered challis – that she wanted it; the colors would go with almost everything and when she wasn't wearing it, it could decorate the settee.

"I'm sorry, Adam, about the way … the way I behaved. It's just that…actually, I have no excuse."

"It's cold, Sigrid. Go back inside."

"I wish you'd come with me."

"You know," Adam said almost wistfully, "I was thinking that right now, I'd like nothing more than a good cigar and a glass of whiskey. Makes me wish I was back in Virginia City playing poker and drinking in The Bucket of Blood – no troubles except what the next deal of the cards held."

"Why? Is it because of me?"

Adam snorted in disgust. "No, Sigrid, it's not you, it's just that there's always something to be done around here. I started the fence and the posts are still piled where I stopped weeks ago. I've cleared away most of the saplings in the yard but there are still more needing to be pulled up – they creep in and I swear those rocks crawl out the ground just to devil me. And as for the trip tomorrow, well, that machinery waiting in Dalby is necessary for the copper mine – I have to go. And then we've made little progress on the silver mine – have hit some pockets and it looks like good ore, but I don't know about going forward in the tunnel or downward – I need to take some samples to the assay office in Dalby. If we go straight down and make a shaft, we need a miner's cage to raise and lower the men. All their lives are in my hands – it's a sacred trust.

"I don't like leaving you alone for such so many days, Sigrid. I understand you being upset but…"

"I'm sorry, Adam, that I cried and made you feel bad. I really am." She sat down beside him on the steps, pulling her shawl closer about her, slipping one arm through his and leaning her head against his arm.

"You always are. And so am I. Oh, Sigrid, I thought I could do all this but I'm finding I can't. There's just so much. I work around here in the early mornings and the mines all day and when I get home, I'm too tired to even carry on a decent conversation or make love to my wife. And my back aches after a day lifting heavy ore buckets and manning a star drill and sledge. And some of the Cornish miners who've come here, most of them are older than me and they work all day, only stopping for lunch. I don't know how they manage.

"I want to buy a manual rock drill – I've seen them before and it would help if I could get my hands on at least two. Then I wouldn't have to do so much hammering by hand."

"What are they for – the rock drills?"

"Boring holes for dynamite."

"Dynamite? I'd think you wouldn't want an explosion in a mine." Sigrid looked at him in surprise – and was more surprised when he smacked her cheek. She stared open-mouthed, her hand flying to the spot.

"Sorry, sweetheart – it was a mosquito." He wiped her cheek with his thumb and then ran it along his thigh.

"Yes," Sigrid said, wiping her cheek herself. "I'm sure it was – but it's a good way to take out your anger, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't…oh, there's another!" He lightly tapped her head. "And look – one there too!" Teasing, he smacked her leg and then her arm, landed a light tap on her forehead, claiming she was covered in mosquitos. Her hands flew about trying to fend off his light touches.

"Enough!" Sigrid said, standing up. "You're not very funny! I think I'll take myself inside before I'm carried off by a swarm of hungry mozzies!"

Chuckling, Adam turned back to the open area in front of him while she slammed the door. Then he heard the bolt shoot home. "That little bitch," Adam muttered as he tried the door. Although the handle turned in his hand, he was still locked out. He jiggled the handle. "Sigrid! Open the door." He waited but there was no sound from inside. Adam could picture Sigrid smugly sitting in her rocking chair, giggling because he was barred from entering.

Adam stepped back and considered. He had replaced both the kitchen and front doors with heavier, solid doors and attached forged iron bolts to secure the house when Sigrid was left alone; she could lock the house from the outside with the key, but the bolt added extra security. There was no putting a shoulder to the door or kicking it in. He furiously pounded on it with a fist. "Sigrid, open this goddamn door or I swear…" The bolt was slowly pulled back and Sigrid stood at the open door, looking smug.

"Oh, sorry, Adam. I suppose I fell victim to habit, threw the bolt without…" Her smile dropped away when she noticed his face; Adam was furious and Sigrid suddenly regretted her little joke. She backed into the room. "I'm sorry, Adam. I guess it wasn't very funny. But you're inside now. I'm sorry."

He kept approaching her and she felt fear for the first time; she had never before seen him this angry. "You locked me out of my own goddamn house! My own house!" He headed to the narrow closet. He opened the door and pulled his carpet bag off the top shelf.

"Where are you going?" Sigrid asked, her voice, a raw whisper. She realized she had gone too far – he wasn't leaving for Dalby until morning so why was he packing now? Adam stalked to the laddered stairs - Sigrid close behind him. "Where are you going, Adam?"

Adam swung about, his jaw clenched, his chest heaving. Sigrid feared he would strike her, backhand her and she would go flying and land against the wall. She stepped back.

With controlled fury, Adam said, "I'm going to the mine, if it's any of your goddamn business; I'm leaving in the morning anyway." Then he climbed up to the loft and Sigrid heard the bureau drawers pulled opened and then slammed shut. She watched as Adam came down with his bag, dropped it on the floor and pulled his rifle from the rack he had nailed over the mantle. He went into the kitchen and by the sounds, Sigrid knew he was getting ammo and some of their secreted money. Then he came out, threw his gun belt over one shoulder, picked up his saddle bags and tossed them over the other. After putting on his hat, he picked up his bag and rifle and opened the door. But before he left, he turned and snarled, "Don't forget to bolt the door."

Sigrid ran to the kitchen window to see Adam walking to the barn. The windows lit up from the lantern inside and within fifteen minutes, the light was doused and Adam was leading Zeus out. Once the barn door was secured, Adam mounted and rode off into the darkness. He would be back, Sigrid was sure. He was going to Dalby and by the time he was on his way home, he would have settled down and forgiven her for the small joke because that's all it was – a joke. But not really. Sigrid knew that just as his slapping invisible mosquitoes wasn't really a joke and neither was her throwing the bolt. He had still been angry with her and she, angry with him. He was going off and leaving her all alone with some old Cornish miner. And the more she thought about all her grievances against Adam, the angrier she became and the hot tears burned her eyes. The hell with him. She wouldn't let him bother her anymore.

And a conversation she had overheard between two women in Virginia City came to mind. At the time, Sigrid had been sitting on a bench outside the dress shop holding a box that contained her new dress and her first corset. The dress was a light green ditzy print with ecru lace about the collar and cuffs. Sigrid had wanted something fancier, the dress with a lower neckline and a ruffled flounce that drew attention to the bosom. Mrs. Hellström forbade it, emphasizing that Sigrid was only fifteen and far too young for such a style. So, Sigrid, pouting, was waiting while the housekeeper went to the mercantile with her itemized list. As Sigrid sat, two older women, their faces damp with sweat, smiled at the child and sat down beside her and began to discuss the unrelenting heat. They fanned themselves and then debated whether a cup of hot tea would only make them warmer in this weather or should they go to the confectionary and have a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Then the two oldest Cartwright sons rode in and dismounted in front of The Sazerac.

_"__Those Cartwright boys – drinking in the middle of the day!"_

_"__Well, they won't be the only ones in there. How old is that Adam, anyway?"_

_"__Must be 30 – 31. Old enough to be married, that's for certain."_

_"__Yes. He should be married by now – married and starting his own brood. As handsome as he is, he's managed to slip the noose for quite a while. I know he was courting Phyllis Merrivale but that went nowhere. I do wonder why."_

_"__I hear that he's not too easy to wrangle or as my husband would say, he refuses the bit."_

_"__That might very well be the reason. Some men are just too hard to control and they're best let loose. But with all that Cartwright money and prestige, it might be worth it to just let him run the range while sitting at home."_

Sigrid had pondered that conversation, but at the time, she hadn't quite understood. Now she did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

It was close to daybreak and there was a light frost on the ground that crunched under Sigrid's feet as she left the barn, her heavy shawl about her shoulders, and toting a half-filled pail of milk. She started, almost dropping the pail. A man wearing a canvas jacket, a tweed cap, a bedroll over one shoulder, and holding a lunch pail stood in her path, waiting.

"You frightened me," Sigrid said. "Who are you?" She wished she had tucked the .22 in her skirt's waistband as Adam had always told her to do. _"You never know when you might come across a snake – be it a man or a reptile."_

The man slipped off his cap. "You are Mrs. Cartwright, I ween?"

She expected him to obsequiously tug at his forelock but he didn't. "Yes, I'm Mrs. Cartwright. Now, if you would…"

"I be Daene Goron. Mr. Cartwright has sent me to tend to matters about the place. I am to see to the stock, set the fencing, clear the yard," he said glancing about, "and do whatever needs being done to keep the place running." He looked straight at her with a steady gaze. "What I expect is breakfast, a meal for noonday and a supper as I would at the mining camp. Mister Cartwright will settle with me later on the matter of money." He nodded toward the barn. "I will sleep in the barn if that not be putting you out any."

"No, no – that would be fine. There's a tack room with a cot…" Sigrid was flustered. Mr. Goron had obviously taken his instructions from Adam. "Mr. Cartwright had mentioned he was sending someone. Did he give you any more instructions before he left for Dalby this morning?"

"Nothing except about the mare, in particular. She is with foal, he said."

"Yes, Hera, but she's not to foal until November or even December – or so my husband said."

"I was also asked to butcher a few of the hogs now that winter is almost full on. If you don't have any chosen, I'll do the choosing. And I see the smokehouse Mr. Cartwright mentioned. Best to get the wood to make the chips before any slaughtering is done."

Sigrid's heart stepped up. She knew the pigs were eventually to be slaughtered – Adam had told her it was best not to name any of the animals that would end up on the table and she hadn't done so – not them or the chickens. Yet the piglets had been so cute and pink and white when just born although they had gained in both weight and size quickly. They no longer suckled, and inside the small fenced-in area, now scrounged for grubs and insects between feedings. The two sows who had farrowed basically ignored them, even pushed them aside to snatch the table scraps Sigrid tossed into the pen at the end of the day. The boar was evil-looking with his small eyes and his ever-consuming hunger to mount the sows. Sigrid often heard the younger ones squealing in distress but eventually, as they matured, they welcomed him with white drool about their mouths breathing and standing stiff-legged in one place to bear his weight. But at least the boar no longer had to be penned off to keep him from devouring any of his troublesome offspring now that Adam had built a birthing pen. Yet Sigrid's father had always told her that pigs were intelligent animals and it seemed cruel to Sigrid to slit their throats and gather their blood for sausages. She had dreaded the time to slaughter them.

"Well, Mr. Goron, the butchering I'll leave up to you. I hope you have the time to accomplish everything this week."

"I have been hired on as a farmhand, having helped my uncle on his farm in Cornwall as a boy. I have accepted the position due to injuring my back in the mine– it has given me much pain of late and not having much else at which to turn my hand, I have accepted Mr. Cartwright's offer. So, if you have no objection…"

The man seemed to have an air of dignity about him although his clothes had been washed many times over, worn and mended in many places. His age was indeterminate, his hair a rusty red with the gray quickly overtaking. He patiently waited for her answer.

"No, I have no protest. If you haven't yet had breakfast…"

"I have eaten, thank you though."

"Well, then… A woman comes in to help me three days a week, an Aborigine woman, Nama. So, if you see her…" The man just stared at her and Sigrid suddenly felt silly and foolish. "Please make yourself comfortable then. I mean in the barn – settle your belongings, and…I'll go pack you a lunch before you take out for the day – that is unless you're working about here. I have some bread, baked yesterday, and some cold chicken… Is that all right?"

"Thank would be fine, ma'am."

"If that's your lunch pail…"

"Yes, that it is."

"Well, if you'll hand it to me, I'll put your food in it."

I thank you," Goron said and handing her the dented lunch pail, walked past Sigrid to the barn; he had a slight limp and Sigrid wondered if that was the result of his recent injury Adam had mentioned, or if it was an old injury barely noticed anymore. But it didn't matter and she hurried to the house to fix Mr. Goron his lunch. Adam had safely left for Dalby – that she knew since Mr. Goron hadn't contradicted her – and would be gone for a week. And then he would be home again. She longed to see him, to see his face and his smile and hear his low laugh. And feel his hands on her skin.

~ 0 ~

Nama only came three days a week and many times, she left early when there was no more to be done. There just didn't seem to be enough work for the two of them, not yet at least, and with Adam gone, there was barely enough laundry for Nama to keep busy; his insistence on wearing clean clothes every day, always kept the laundry basket full. Nama did her tasks while Taree who was now crawling about, did his best to disrupt his mother's chores. Nama was patient and never scolded the child, allowing him to find out for himself that fire was hot and to stay away. When Sigrid and Nama worked in the garden, Taree crawled about but Nama kept him on a tether tied about his chubby waist, the other end tied about her ankle, that allowed him to only go so far. Often, he fussed and whined when thwarted but Nama would pick him up and take him to her breast and he would suckle and then fall asleep on the shawl she had spread in the grass.

The week Adam was gone to Dalby, Sigrid struggled with ways to fill her days, especially those when Nama was absent. She decided she would do some canning. It was almost full winter with cool days and crisp nights and there were vegetables waiting to be canned and that Monday, she and Nama, Taree slung across her back, took baskets and went into the outback to pick berries and wild plums and other fruit with names Sigrid couldn't remember since Nama called them by common bush names. Sigrid found herself all turned about and lost in the maze of trees, boulders and dips and rises in the landscape, but Nama seemed to know the direction they needed to go. How she knew puzzled Sigrid but they returned safely to the house all three times they went out to collect fruit.

The day after collecting, Sigrid decided she would wash the fruit, but halfway through, she decided to pick more. The native Davidson plums were so ripe that Nama had eaten some as they picked and then, taking the partially chewed pulpy fruit from her mouth, fed some to Taree who ended the day with a sticky, red mouth, chin and hands. There were also the kangaroo apples they hadn't the time to pick that Monday. Sigrid put on her bonnet, slipped the .22 in her apron waistband, picked up her basket and told Mr. Goron who was on his way to dig postholes, where she was going.

"You think that's a good idea, Missus? Wandering out and about like that on your own?"

"Oh, I won't go far. I know exactly where the plum bushes are and the apple tree. The branches are so low that I'll be able to pick quite a few."

"Well, whatever you say. I'll be working on the fencing – quite a bit more to go before I complete it and meet myself." He started off but stopped and turned at a sound.

Sigrid heard it as well - a horse coming. Although she knew it couldn't be Adam, she still hoped it was, that he had second thoughts about the way he had left and wanted to reconcile. But it was Caleb Morgan riding into the yard. He smiled and tipped his hat at her and then spoke a greeting to Daene Goron who nodded and left for the fencing, walking stolidly.

"Morning, Sigrid. How is Goron working out?"

"Oh, fine. As far as I know he works all day unless he naps or goes fishing when he's out of my sight."

Caleb chuckled. "And how are you doing?" He gave her an odd look, as if he was searching her face for any hidden emotion.

"I'm fine." She struggled with keeping overt concern from her voice. "Did Adam get off for Dalby all right?" Sigrid knew Adam had from Daene Goron, but perhaps Caleb would tell her something Goron hadn't.

Caleb looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes. They had an early start, you know, since Adam was already at the camp – but you know that. I mean since he must have left here." Caleb cleared his throat.

"Yes, I know he stayed there but I wanted to know if there had been any problems. He was excited about the machinery although I have no idea what it was or what use it would be." Sigrid felt that much hung unspoken in he air; she was certain Caleb knew what had passed between her and Adam. "I've been keeping myself busy. I'm just about to go pick more fruit for canning."

"Yes, it's that time of year. Maddy's been canning vegetables – we have a good garden this year – enough rain but not too much. Why I'm here though, is I rode into Barakula to pick up the mail and this came for Adam." He pulled a letter from his inside jacket pocket, leaned down and handed Sigrid a letter. "From Adam's father."

Sigrid stared at it. "Yes, yes. I…it's not addressed to me, just to him. I suppose that…"

Caleb laughed aloud. "Maddy pays no attention to the name that's on the envelope – if it comes to the house, she opens it."

"Yes, I suppose I could - I don't think Adam would mind but he's so funny about things like that."

"Well, you argue with your conscience but I would guess it's to you both. I have to get the rest of the mail to the mine and sort through it, so I'll be off." He tipped his hat again, turned his horse and rode off at a canter.

Sigrid walked back into the house and placed the letter on the mantle. Yes, she'd leave it for Adam to open.

And that day as she picked the last of the fruit of the season, Sigrid wondered about the letter. Should she read it? Would Adam be upset if she did? He was already angry at her and she didn't want to give him more reason to stay angry. Why was he such a stickler for privacy? She often caught him thinking, a book in his hands but his eyes vaguely focused on the opposite wall. The few times she had asked about his thoughts, he said it was nothing – just business matters – or matters of the property – or money matters. Sigrid smiled in response but resentment built inside her – he never allowed her into the deepest of his thoughts.

The next morning, Sigrid and Nama washed the fruit and the Mason jars she had bought from Mr. Naples, preparing the materials for canning. Nama knew nothing about how to cook the fruit, to sweeten it, and how to fill the jars and set them in the boiling water and then to place the rubber seal and secure the clamp lid. But she learned quickly and gladly took a few jars home with her although Sigrid still wasn't certain where Nama's home was. The woman never offered an invitation and even if she had, Sigrid wasn't quite sure she would accept. After all, Nama wouldn't be able to offer tea and cakes and sit and chat about trivial matters. Perhaps, she considered, visiting wasn't a tribal practice and perhaps, just perhaps, Nama and her kinsmen were so busy surviving, they had no use for her except as an end to a means.

All the rest of the week, Sigrid and Nama canned vegetables and made preserves as well as jars of whole fruit such as the small apples. Sigrid kept the kitchen windows open to let out the steam and occasionally she saw Mr. Goron working about the farmyard. Now that he had worked about the place a few days, Sigrid took comfort in having him there. He wasn't quick in his work but was assiduous. He ate his meals alone while sitting on the porch step or on the bench outside the barn. He remained a stranger though and whenever she tried to start up a conversation, he would answer her curtly and then excuse himself to go about his chores.

On the third day after Mr. Goron had arrived, Tuesday evening, Sigrid approached the washhouse where he scrubbed his face and hands. It was Adam's birthday and she had made a small applesauce cake and although she wouldn't reveal the significance to Mr. Goron, it would be her small celebration. She stood outside the washhouse and called to him.

"Mr. Goron, I have dinner ready. I was wondering if you would like to join me inside the house, to eat at the table?" She waited for a reply. Finally, Mr. Goron stepped out, wiping his hands on the towel.

"I thank you, but if it is all the same to you, ma'am, I prefer to eat alone. It gives me time to plan out my chores for the next day. I would not very good company."

"Of course." Sigrid's ears became hot with embarrassment. "Whatever you prefer. I'll get your plate ready." He nodded and Sigrid turned to the house. She felt slighted by Mr. Goron's response and wasn't quite sure why it should be. But she knew now not to ask him again, not because she didn't long for some company as Nama also ate her lunch off by herself with her child, but she feared that if she did, Mr. Goron would become uncomfortable or even think she was making overtures and decide to leave. And she didn't want to be out there all alone.

With no one to share her loneliness or the cake, Sigrid ate by herself, giving a large slice to Mr. Goron when he returned his dinner dishes to her; he always rinsed them off under the pump before he handed them over. He thanked her and picked the slice off the plate, eating it from his hand. "No need for a plate. I thank you for the treat. And applesauce cake at that."

Sigrid had forced herself to eat a slice after her sparse meal of boiled carrots, left-over chicken, noodles with gravy made from chicken fat, wondering how Adam had celebrated his birthday or if he even remembered. He should be sitting across from her having opened the small gift she had bought the last time she had been in Barakula – a new folding knife with an inlaid whale ivory handle and silver findings. She had examined it when the shop owner handed it to her and she felt Adam would like it; he always had a small knife on him and this one was lovely and well-made, something Adam would be proud to pull out to slice a length of rope. But once Mrs. Hellström had told her to never give a knife as a gift as it cuts off the relationship. Adam would say it was a foolish superstition, Sigrid told herself, and kiss her for the lovely gift but Sigrid still hesitated. Finally, she had smiled and asked the shopkeeper to wrap it up nicely for a man's birthday. The small package still sat by the mantle clock with the unopened letter.

Washing the dishes, she looked out the small window above the sink as the sun fell – willing Adam to be riding into the yard. But he didn't. Afterwards, she sat knitting. The previous evenings, she had tried to read one of the novels but met with frustration – her mind always went back to Adam and she would be at the end of the page and remember nothing she had read. She had even tried to read the Bible as in the past, it had often offered consolation, but she felt that she was now guilty of so many sins - vanity, wrath, lust - that there was no comfort to be found. Knitting was the only thing she could do as it kept her hands busy and seemed to quell her rising anxiety at the thought that Adam may never return to her. She found her needles clicking in time to the seconds passing on the mantle clock. At night as she lay alone in the loft, waiting for sleep, she wondered what Adam was doing and if he was already on his way home but a week passed and then two more days and no Adam. The colors of the world seemed to be faded with Adam gone, the sun didn't shine as brightly, the sky wasn't as blue or the grass seem as green.

The morning of the 12th day that Adam was away, Sigrid was worried – more than worried – close to being in a state of panic. Her sleep had been haunted with images of Adam, his laughing face as he said goodbye, or riding away while she desperately ran after him, the ground murky and sucking in her feet as she tried to keep up with him.

That morning she lay in bed, listening to the silence of the house; she longed for the sound of Adam's voice. She consoled herself with the thought that if anything had happened to Adam, Caleb would have told her by now. Word would have reached him or he would have sought out why Adam and the men hadn't returned; he would know if some catastrophe had fallen. After all, Adam had said he was taking three men along. They would have returned by now, surely – even if something had happened to Adam. But what if they had murdered him for the money he carried and then left to never return? She sat up, barely able to breathe. She had to find out. Sigrid knew she couldn't go to the mining camp; only whores visited there to make money by pleasing the men. But she could go see Maddie, ask her if Caleb had seen Adam or received a wire saying he would be late. Yes, that was it! The machinery hadn't yet arrived and Adam was waiting in Dalby. But what if that wasn't it?

It was a Wednesday and Nama was to come. Sigrid quickly dressed, wearing a warmer dress than the cotton shifts or airy blouses and skirts she wore during the late spring and summer. Mr. Naples carried ready-made dresses and Sigrid had bought a few of heavier fabric. She had also purchased yardage and a pattern, deciding to sew a day-dress, one in which to receive visitors. Adam had told her that a homesteader had purchased a smaller lot next to theirs and to the east, a husband and wife with an infant. Hence the immediacy of the fence; he didn't want Pansy and Brutus to end up on their property and start out any acquaintance with bad blood.

Sigrid was busy washing up the breakfast dishes when there was a knock on the door. Drying her hands, Sigrid went to answer, still holding the dishtowel. But it wasn't Nama, it was the large man who had shown up to take Ekala home that first day, Kulan. His hair was wild about his head and he stared at her from greenish eyes with heavily etched wrinkles at their corners and across his forehead. He didn't smile.

"Yes?" Sigrid asked.

"Taree not good today – teeth causing much pain. Nama not come." Then he turned and left, not waiting for her to say anything. She felt slighted but then, she always felt that Nama's attitude was that she was doing Sigrid a favor by helping her and that one day, she might say goodbye and state she was through and that someone else was coming to help – or not.

Sigrid closed the door, leaning against it. Mr. Goron was on the roof of the barn. During the recent rainy season, leaks had been discovered. Adam had bought shingles that lay stacked inside the barn but had only been able to fix a few of the spots between all the other chores about the place. During a light rain they had two days ago, Mr. Goron had noticed the leaks and was determined to fix them before he took to slaughtering any hogs. So that morning, he was on the barn roof, replacing the missing or splintered wooden shingles.

She decided she would visit Maddy. With Maddy, she could spill her worries over Adam and Maddy _must_ have heard something from Caleb by now about Adam not having yet returned. Caleb was probably worried and didn't want to alarm Sigrid but if that was the case, Sigrid was determined to find out. She set her faded sunbonnet on, placed her old, crocheted shawl about her shoulders, pulled two jars of jam out of the pantry and placed them into the string bag as a gift for Maddy. Once outside, Sigrid called to Mr. Goron that she was going to visit Mrs. Morgan and to help himself to the kitchen larder for his lunch as she didn't think she'd be back by midday. But no sooner had she gone thirty yards down the path to Maddy's when she saw her friend crossing the bridge, walking toward her. Sigrid waved, smiling, and Maddy waved back. She had on a man's battered homberg as well as an old jacket of Caleb's that she often wore when working outside in the colder weather.

"I'll come to you!" Maddy called out and burst into a light run, holding her skirts up with one hand while holding a small sack with the other, and once across the bridge, Sigrid ran to meet her and the two women hugged when they met, kissing each other's cheek.

"I was just coming to see you," Sigrid said.

Maddy laughed at the coincidence. "And I'm delivering a letter to you from maybe your father. Caleb wanted me to give it to you…" She pulled an envelope out of the jacket's pocket and handed it to Sigrid.

"Oh, thank you," Sigrid said, looking at the return address. "Yes, it's from him. Thank you but I would think Caleb would just give it to Adam if -Maddy, do you know why Adam…"

Maddy interrupted her. "Oh, Sigrid – I know where Adam is staying."

Sigrid was almost speechless. All she could manage was the lone word, "Where?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

"Let's go back to your house," Maddy said, slipping her arm through Sigrid's. She had noticed how Sigrid's cheeks and lips went white when she heard the news.

"Yes," Sigrid whispered. "Yes. At least I know Adam's safely back."

"We'll have a nice cuppa – that'll bring the color back into your cheeks. And look, I brought you some jam so we can have some on bread."

"Oh…jam. I was bringing you some - plum and lilly pilly." Sigrid raised the string bag.

Maddy laughed. "I've brought you the same! Now we can compare recipes!"

They walked awhile in silence and then Sigrid spoke. "Maddy," she said, gripping Madrigal's free hand, "you have to know or you wouldn't have said anything to me - just where is Adam?" They were almost back in sight of the little house. "I've heard nothing from him – nothing – and he left under…we had a terrible disagreement before he left and…" Sigrid choked back sudden tears. Having a sympathetic ear was bringing all her tumultuous feelings to the surface.

"When we're sitting with a hot cup of tea, we'll have a nice talk as it's not as bad as you probably think." Maddy smiled but her heart was pounding. It may or may not be bad that Adam was staying elsewhere than with his wife. All Maddy actually knew was what Caleb had inadvertently told her last night after asking her to take the letter to Sigrid. She had suggested Caleb just give it to Adam to take home and was surprised at his answer as to why Adam couldn't do that.

_"__And you weren't going to say anything to Sigrid?" Maddy was appalled._

_"__It's not our business what goes on between the two of them. Adam is a private man, holds everything close to his chest like a winning poker hand. If he wanted her to know where he was, he'd tell her himself. Besides, it's not as if she's been left alone."_

_"__That's not the point – it's just cruel! Why, Sigrid must be half out of her mind by now."_

_Caleb shook his finger at his wife. "Don't you go saying anything to her. Adam'll talk to her when he's good and ready to, hear? They had one helluva argument, from what Adam told me. Now serve up dinner – I'm hungry." And Caleb Morgan sat down to a meal of roasted chicken and potatoes but his wife silently ate, refusing to take part in any conversation. "Fine. Sit there like a mute and say nothing. Why you should be angry with me over the way another husband behaves is beyond me." _

_Maddy stood up and taking her plate, said, "Because all you men are alike. All of you! I'll eat in the kitchen! Right now, I prefer my own company to yours. Perhaps you'd like to move out as well."_

_"__Well, right now, it seems like a damn good idea!"_

~ 0 ~

"There's a little cabin – a shack really - on the edge of your property. It's where Mark Flynn and his wife first lived and then Caleb lived there while he was helping them finish their house. He still lived there while he and Mark built the house we have now. The cabin's not much – basically one room – but it served him as a bachelor. Anyway, that's where Adam's been since he returned from Dalby."

Sigrid's hand shook slightly as she tried to pour the steaming water from the kettle into the teapot.

"Here, let me do that," Maddy said. Sigrid put the tea kettle back on the stove. "You go sit at the table and read your letter and I'll bring the cups and bread and jam. And hasn't the weather been lovely lately?"

"Yes," Sigrid said. Her thoughts were whirling and she knew Maddy was chatting about the weather while giving her time to digest the information. Adam was so close – so close and hadn't come to see her. She sat heavily in one of the chairs at the round table. She reached for the envelope on the table, looking once again at the return address. She slipped a finger under the gummed flap and forced it open.

_Min Käraste Dotter, _

_I am well but for the longing to see my child again. Mrs. Hellström is also well and sends you her fondest regards. Business is better than ever as we have more and more people moving into the area and all homesteaders require good shoes for heir horses and the mending of plows and hoes._

_I much enjoyed your letter and did as you asked and shared it with Mr. Cartwright. I prefer not to do so again so have your husband write his father…_

Sigrid was relieved with the reassuring opening paragraph; both her father and Mrs. Hellström were fine and the letter itself was short – only a few paragraphs – but then her father was not one to write. But in its brevity, he managed to convey his dislike for any and all Cartwrights. In her memory, Sigrid could not once recall having seen him take up a pen except to log profits and losses. She quickly read the rest of the missive and then, once finished, focused again on Adam and her heartbreak that he had left her, for that is what he had done and she was sure Maddy thought so as well.

"Well, now," Maddy said, bringing out the clattering tea items on a tray and placing them on the table. "Here, Sigrid, try my plum jam." She spread some on a slice of bread and put it on a small plate, placing it in front of Sigrid. "Sugar?" she asked, holding the china tea pot with a small chip at the end of the spout. Maddy knew Sigrid didn't take sugar but was trying to engage her friend as Sigrid sat silently at the table.

Maddy poured herself some tea as well, with two sugars and a dollop of cream and sat back with a sigh. "Sigrid, I know it's unexpected, upsetting news, but isn't it better to know Adam's all right than not know anything?"

Sigrid slipped her hands around the hot mug; the heat brought her back the way a slap does a hysterical person. "How close is he? I mean to me."

Maddy sighed again. "Not too far – maybe a twenty, thirty-minute walk. It's actually closer to you than us if you leave the path between our places."

"Do you know the way?" Sigrid asked. "Can you show me?"

"Well…yes…I suppose I can. It's a bit of a twisted path due to the boulders and trees and such and I've only been there two times, but it's not a tortuous path. If you keep the mountains to your left and that wash that runs through your property to the right…but, Sigrid, do you think it's a good idea? I mean Adam's not even there now, but at the mine. You shouldn't be there when he's not."

"Why not? He came here when I wasn't home and besides, he has a letter waiting from his father. It's up there behind the clock." Sigrid nodded toward the mantle. "If he's not coming back here, well, I want to take him the letter."

"You mean you want to use the letter as an excuse to see him."

Sigrid shrugged. "Excuse or not, Adam should have the letter. Caleb brought it by almost two weeks ago and who knows when Adam will stop by. There may be important news in it. Why one of his brothers may be ill or dying…it could be any sort of thing."

"Won't Adam need more clothes if he's staying there? He'll have to come back to fetch some and I think he'll come back anyway once he settles down; he's just angry. Really, Sigrid, I think you should wait. I told you where he was because I didn't want you to be worried about him. Caleb will be furious with me if he finds out I told you—we'll have an argument but he'll probably send me off packing instead of him leaving! He thinks that it's Adam's business and none of mine."

Sigrid sipped her tea and then reached for the cream pitcher and added a bit. "Who knows when he'll run out of clothes – but he does like freshly laundered shirts and such. But if anything, he'll come for his guitar." Sigrid looked to where the guitar had last stood and it was gone – missing from where it had leaned against the side of the settee. _"Why I'd never go off and leave my guitar behind…"_

"It's gone," Sigrid said, slowly rising from her chair and staring as if a ghost stood before her.

"What is?' Maddy stood up as well, looking where Sigrid was.

"His guitar. It was here," Sigrid said, moving to the settee. "He left it leaning here – he always did – and now it's gone."

"He must have taken it with him when he left for Dalby," Maddy said, coming up beside Sigrid and looking about.

"No. He didn't. He was leaving for Dalby that next morning – he didn't take it and it was here after he left. It was right here until…" Her mind swirled. When had she last seen it?

"Well…he must have come for it then. Were you gone at any time? Had you left the house for a short time and not locked up?"

"Not that I can think of… Mr. Goron. I'm going to ask Mr. Goron if he knows anything about it."

"Sigrid, wait!" Maddy said, but Sigrid stormed out of the house and to the barn where Mr. Goron was hammering shingles after pulling off the damaged ones that littered the ground.

"Mr. Goron!" Sigrid stood with her hands on her hips. "Mr. Goron!" Maddy came up behind her.

The hammering stopped and Mr. Goron, looking out, calmly answered, "Yes?"

"Did Mr. Cartwright come for his guitar at any time?" Sigrid felt her cheeks flame with anger.

"Yes, ma'am, I do believe he did."

"When was that?"

He paused, thinking. "About two day ago."

"Well, why didn't you tell me?" Sigrid wasn't sure how she felt. Adam had come to the house and fetched his guitar and perhaps other items – she hadn't checked – and she hadn't known he had been there.

"It is his house. A man has a right to his house and his things – it wouldn't be called theft. Nor did you ask me had he been here." Mr. Goron paused, waiting. Sigrid said nothing so he asked, "Will there be anything else?"

Sigrid considered telling him to pack his things and leave, that he was fired. But he would only say that Mr. Cartwright had hired him and it was he who could fire him; men stuck with one another. "No, nothing, Mr. Goron." Sigrid clamped her lips together and stomped back to the house, Maddy following, to the resumed banging of the hammer.

Sigrid's chest heaved with outrage as she paced back and forth in the small house's parlor, while Maddy sat and ate her bread and jam allowing Sigrid to work out her anger and frustration. Sigrid's thoughts swirled; Adam had avoided seeing her. Why? Why wouldn't he see her? Was he still so very angry? Well, she was angry too! He came two days ago – where had she been? It must have been while she had gone out with her flower basket to pick any wildflowers she happened to see. And moving about under the blue sky and crisp wind helped to tamp down her anxiety over Adam not being home. She hadn't locked the door because Mr. Goron was there so she saw no need. If she had only stayed home, she would have seen him. And why hadn't he waited for her or instruct Mr. Goron to tell her he was there? Adam should have told Mr. Goron to, if for no other reason than to ease her mind; he knew she tended to worry, often teased or chastised her about it.

"Maddy, take me to the place. Please."

~ 0 ~

Sigrid fixed her hair, changed into a fresh frock and put on her newer sun bonnet. She pulled out her new shawl and tried to adjust it to its most fetching effect. She slipped the letter for Adam into her dress pocket and considered before deciding to take Adam the string bag holding the jam jars. When Sigrid and Maddy left the house, Mr. Goron stopped working, watching as they walked away. He continued watching until they were almost out of sight. And shaking his head, he went back to work.

As she and Maddy walked, Sigrid tried to remember the way. They turned off the path about 20 yards past the bridge. "Why we're going back in the direction we came." Sigrid said. "There must be a shorter way."

"No, because of the creek. In dry season, there are probably places where a body could wade across with the water being no more than waist high, or drive a horse through, but now, with the creek so swollen and fast, only the bridge will get you to the other side safely. Like I said, you keep the creek to your right and the far mountains to your left."

Sigrid noted what direction they were going, how they wended their way about the singular rock formations and the distinctive piles of boulders and the stands of trees among the open spaces. The distant mountain range rose to their left and if she listened, she could hear the creek that was close to fifty yards inside their property line; Mark Flynn had staked out the property a few months before Caleb Morgan joined him. Flynn knew how valuable a running source of water was and set his line beyond it; two miles or more past the bridge, it moved its path into the Morgan's property. After the recent rainy season, it had become unruly, flooding over the banks and only now had it settled back but the waters still swirled and rushed over the boulders in the path of the current.

"Sigrid, I still don't think this is a good idea," Maddy nervously said as they walked.

"I have to see where he's been staying. I want to know if it's better than our house, if that's why he prefers it, or if it's just to get away from me."

"How can it be better? It's sat empty for a few years. Caleb said it had holes in the roof when he was staying there and he had to do quite a bit of work to make it habitable."

"Then I want Adam to know I'm aware he's there and that he's living in such horrid conditions. Maybe he'll be embarrassed by it all. And when he tastes my homemade jam, well, then he'll miss my cooking if not miss me."

"Sigrid! Stop!" Maddy firmly grabbed Sigrid's arm. Sigrid looked and saw a snake, a long, thick brown snake coiled on a pile of leaves. "I almost didn't see it." The snake looked at the two women and then slithered away. "Oh, I hate snakes! Snakes and spiders! Sigrid, let's go back."

"Nothing happened, Maddy. Don't be silly. How much farther do we have to go?" Sigrid tried to sound nonchalant and brave but inside she was quivering with fear. She hated this rough land where all sorts of terrors of nature dwelt.

"Probably about another ten minutes or so but, Sigrid..."

"That's not much further. And that's the only snake we've seen. Besides, it's cold so they're looking to sun themselves. That's why it was out here - sunning."

"Well, this path is so overgrown – it's like the bushland. I don't know how the Abos do it, walk all over the countryside and not get bit by something or lost."

The two women walked on further, picking up their step, and after another ten minutes or so, Maddy stopped and pointed. "There it is, Sigrid. That's the place. The creek's right over there – not too far behind it."

Sigrid stared at the small, wooden shack with a cowshed beside it. The structure was similar to what was called a line shack back home. Sigrid knew about them from a story she had read in _The Territorial Enterprise_. Line shacks weren't meant for living in, just for ranch hands checking the perimeter to stay for a night or two at a time; they were restocked on a regular basis as many ranch hands passed through in a year. Once, on the Ponderosa, a trespasser had apparently been living in one and when the ranch hands tried to roust him, the squatter settled in and refused to leave, claiming the property as his own. He killed one of the hands and the remaining ranch hand, in turn, shot and killed him. Since there was only one man left alive, a Ponderosa hand, he had to testify at the inquest and claimed that killing the trespasser was self-defense. No charges were filed but Ben Cartwright let him go with a month's pay. Sigrid remembered her father saying that it was only because the man worked for the Cartwrights that he wasn't strung up for murder.

Sigrid slipped her arm through Maddy's and eagerly said, "Let's go. Adam's horse isn't there and I want to see the inside of the place." But as they neared, Sigrid stopped. "Look…" A woman was placing wet clothes over a makeshift line – Adam's clothes. She looked to be in her late 20's with her blond hair gathered loosely into a bun. She wore a shapeless, long-sleeved shift of faded blue calico and although she had narrow shoulders, her hips were generous and her breasts swung freely as she moved. And when she bent to reach for another shirt, Sigrid saw that her face was blandly pretty, her cheeks rosy as were her lips. But Sigrid also noticed her bare ankles were dirty, as if she had walked through dirt in her flat shoes. Was her neck grimy as well? Sigrid wondered.

The air suddenly seemed too thick to breathe and Sigrid felt her knees begin to buckle. "I have to…" Her hand slid off Maddy's arm and Sigrid dropped to sit on the ground. Her breathing was ragged. She pulled her knees up, resting her forehead on them, rocking back and forth. "Oh, Maddy, he already has a woman. Adam already found someone else."

"Sigrid, you don't know that." Maddy kneeled down beside her. "She could be…"

"She's one of the women who sleeps with the miners for money and food and..." Sigrid felt dizzy and paused; she didn't want to faint. If she did, Maddy would have to run to the shack and fetch water and then the woman would come as well. She might insist on helping and then Sigrid would have to be grateful to her. "I know all about them, how they make their living. I read the letter Caleb wrote Adam; I found it in one of Adam's books on the ship – 'Bring a wife". That's why Adam married me, because there were only whores about here and that's who she is – she's one of them and I'm sure Adam regrets bringing me along now!" Sigrid began to cry, the tears rolling unbidden down her cheeks. Her mouth opened as she suddenly had a new thought. "Oh, Maddy… do you think Adam brought her from Dalby and that's why he didn't come home to me – because he has her now?"

"Sigrid, just stop. You're jumping to conclusions. You don't know any of that at all—you're only guessing."

"Then tell me, Maddy – who is she?" Sigrid felt as if the world had shifted on its axis – nothing was right anymore.

Maddy watched the woman who had now finished hanging the washed clothes. She picked up the large tin wash pan that had served as a laundry basket and walked back into the house, shutting the door behind her. There was smoke coming from the stove pipe. The woman obviously was going to be there awhile for she was either cooking or keeping the place warm.

"I don't know, Sigrid. I really don't know."


	4. Chapter 4

**I had a few hundred words written before the hurricane and now that all that ismercifully in the past, I spent practcally all day writing; I am now bleary-eyed! I know I lose interest if a story isn't updated within a reasonable amount of time and I didn't want that to happen. I proofed but there may still be errors. And thank you for reading. **

**Four**

"Are you well, Missus?" Mr. Goron asked anxiously. He had come down from the roof when he saw the two women returning and saw Sigrid's face – it was bloodless, her lips pale. Had she suffered a faint? City-born women were delicate, that he knew, and were always swooning, or so it seemed. Bothersome, they were.

"I'm fine, Mr. Goron. I just had a slight accident …I'm fine." Sigrid pulled herself together; even if she wasn't feeling strong, she wanted to appear so. She untied her bonnet and pulled it off.

"Nothing has raised up and bitten you then, has it?"

"No, Mr. Goron, no." Maddy said. "She just needs to rest. We had quite a walk – quite a walk and lost our way a bit. And we saw a snake—surprised us and we're both a little shaken by it."

Mr. Goron scrutinized them, his eyes narrowed as if doubting the story. But he said nothing,

The two women started up the porch steps but Sigrid turned. "Mr. Goron, have you eaten yet?"

"No, ma'am, I have not but if you're not feeling well – I have gone longer without food."

"Nonsense," Sigrid said with a forced smile. "I'll heat up some of the chicken and dumplings from last night."

"Well, I thank you then." Mr. Goron stayed and watched the two women enter the house. Something was wrong. He wondered if the Missus had been to the place where her husband was staying. But why that should have such an effect on her – if that was what it was, he couldn't fathom. But women were unpredictable and he was glad he had remained a bachelor; wives were far too much trouble despite their benefits. A woman can be had at any time, that is if there was enough jingle of coin in the pocket and there was enough desire to make a man rise. And his own cooking was tolerable and if not, well, food could be gotten as easily as a woman, if not easier.

~ 0 ~

"But, Sigrid, I really think I should stay a little longer. You're none too steady."

"Would you like some coffee?" Sigrid asked.

"No, no, but thank you. I just worry about you now that we saw that woman."

"I'm fine, really, Maddy. I just need to accept that Adam prefers another woman over me. I should have faced her – right then and there. I should have gone to the house and asked her what she was doing there and then I'd know for certain how things stood. Oh, Maddy, I'm such a coward!" Sigrid placed the stew pot back on the stove and filled the grate with enough firewood to heat the food and make a pot of coffee. She placed the coffee pot on the wooden counter and pulled out the canister that held the aromatic beans, shoveling some into the coffee grinder.

Maddy considered. "You were just shocked, Sigrid. To be honest, I was too. I didn't expect a woman there, but going up and asking her who she was, I don't think that would have been for the best. At least not yet. Maybe I can get it from Caleb without him knowing we went there. I can ask something none too specific like…does Adam eat at the camp and does he wear clean cloths and such. Something vague…"

"Thank you, Maddy, but this is something I need to handle on my own. You know," Sigrid said, turning to Maddy, "I may just write my father and tell him I'm coming home. I still have the money he gave me – just in case I wanted to return. I might just pack up and have Mr. Goron drive me to Dalby where I can hire a man to drive me to Brisbane."

"Sigrid, you can't be serious."

"Why not? We've been married not even a year and Adam is already tired of me. And I've tried my best to be a good wife." Sigrid felt as if she was pleading her case in a court of law as Maddy listened, her face serious. "I admit, I wasn't the best wife at the beginning and had to learn quite a bit about men and keeping up a house on my own and such, but I can do quite a few things now, and as for obliging him in our bed, well, I've done things I'd be mortified to confess in church although I have to admit they weren't unpleasant - but that's another shameful confession in itself!"

"Sigrid, put aside your anger and think logically. You own part of the Morgan and Cartwright mines and this very property which is quite a bit of acreage. Do you really want to give it up, especially if Adam has brought another woman here – not that I think he has - but what if he has? Do you want her, thst woman we saw, to have this?" Maddy had often thought of leaving her husband after an argument or out of frustration, but their place was now her home and she would be damned before she abandoned it; she felt she had rights and although there was no law to protect her, living under British law; she once laughingly told Sigrid that she would be economically better off poisoning Caleb and inheriting everything as a widow, than leaving him and losing it all. But Sigrid and Adam had been married in America and perhaps…Maddy wasn't familiar with the laws there or even if they would apply here in Australia since this was where the legal papers were filed and recorded.

Sigrid weakly smiled. "You do have a point, Maddy." She sighed heavily. "Do you want to stay for lunch? I have no appetite but there's enough for two and some."

"No, I best be getting back, I suppose. I left Ekala with the laundry and if I don't give her anything else, she'll leave." So Maddy kissed her friend goodbye and Sigrid was left alone. She looked about the house that now seemed emptier than ever – as empty as she herself felt. She went out to the parlor, slipped off her shawl, and tossed some wood on the fireplace's dying embers and went back to the kitchen to heat up Mr. Goron's lunch.

~ 0 ~

Sigrid changed back into her day dress and washed up the dishes and cooking pots and then scrubbed the kitchen floor. She stood up after dropping the scrub brush into the sink, admired her clean floor, and stretched her back before picking up the wash bucket and dumping the soapy, dirty water into the yard. Then she sat down on the back steps and considered. She wouldn't cry, she told herself. Adam had broken her heart and now that she knew what it felt like, as if a hand had reached inside her and wrenched her soul away, she understood what Adam had lived through that day on the ship when he told her about his "friend" and all he had suffered from the arbitrary affections of the women in his life. Nevertheless, she had to know and understand how he could just abandon her for another woman. For as Sigrid had done her housework, her mind had gone around and around and Sigrid finally knew what she would do. She would face Adam and see what he had to say for himself. Yes, let him look her in the face and tell her he had found another. That other woman would probably be sitting there with him, smiling or perhaps even laughing. Maybe she would catch them in bed together – in flagrante. Sigrid felt her neck and ears become hot. Could she withstand that type of humiliation? Perhaps she'd shoot that woman. Yes, Sigrid thought, I'll kill her! And although she knew she would never do such a thing, could never do such a thing, the idea gave her a small thrill - pulling out the .22 pistol and shooting the other woman dead!

Rising, Sigrid went back into the house, closed the shutter in the kitchen and stripping down to her chemise, washed herself at the kitchen sink – a whore's bath, Mrs. Hellström called it – just washing the essentials. The water was cold but that was what she needed; she didn't want to take the time to go the washhouse and take a proper bath but she wanted to be clean and neat – cleaner and neater than the woman with the grimy ankles whom Adam had at the cabin. That woman was slovenly, Sigrid decided, and she wanted to look better than her. But then, Sigrid considered, Adam wasn't one to be won over by sweet looks and prim manners; perhaps when he and that blonde woman lay together at night, she satisfied Adam in ways she herself had never been able to because she didn't know her complete way about a man's body yet, where to touch a man to thrill him beyond endurance. Sigrid felt tears sting her eyes – she hated this unknown woman in a way she had never felt before. She climbed up into the loft and put on the same dress she had worn that afternoon; the letter was still in the pocket and Sigrid decided again that she would use that as the pretext.

_"__Adam, this letter came from your father last week and since it looks as if you're never coming back to me…"_ Yes, Sigrid decided, that's what she would say.

Looking in the mirror over the low bureau, she pulled up her hair. Yes, Adam liked her hair down, liked to hold its curly mass and kiss it, smell it, but she wanted to look sophisticated and desirable when she saw him, not like some girl too young and innocent to wear her hair up. And then she thought of the other woman's blonde hair. Sigrid stared at herself. Suddenly she wished she had the same blonde hair she knew her mother had and it unexpectedly struck her that she bore the dark hair of the man who was her actual father. Why did life play such tricks on people? If she had been conceived a child of the man who had raised her and had loved her like his own, she would have blonde hair as well and perhaps, she would then be far lovelier than her rival. And thinking of her father so far away and how she had left him behind to go with Adam, brought tears to her eyes again. Sigrid chastised herself and shook herself from her melancholy reverie, finishing her hair.

Her stockings were still clean and she slid them up, adjusting her garters, and stuck her feet in her best shoes, a pair of heeled, lambskin, calf-high boots with jet buttons down the sides. She looked at herself and was pleased; she had put on a bit of weight and her bosom was more filled-out. But she noticed as she tucked back a curl, that her hands were becoming red and rough from all the housework she did. She held her hands out and looked at them. Soon, all of her, her face as well as her neck and arms would be brown from the sun and rough from the weather. But she couldn't think of such things now.

She reached for the perfume Adam had bought her months ago; she barely had reasons to use any, and she stopped, her heart pounding. A piece of folded stationary was resting against the small square bottle. Had it been there before? She picked up the paper, her hands shaking, and unfolded it.

_My Dearest Wife, _

_I came by and you were not to home. But that is probably for the best as I need to collect my thoughts before we speak. I will come by again some morning hence and we can talk about matters of import to us both. _

_I am staying in a cabin on the edge of property and am managing. I saw that you have been doing so as well._

_Your husband, _

_Adam_

Sigrid sat on the bed, reading the note again and again – _My Dearest Wife_…was it just a salutation such as _Dear Whomever_? And he hadn't closed with _Love_. But that word did not easily to him, that she knew. Sigrid pressed the paper to her breast. The note had sat there for those few days and she hadn't even noticed. Adam hadn't counted on her being like a sleepwalker who just walked through one's days, not really seeing, not really living until he returned to her.

She kissed the paper, refolded it and placed the note under her pillow and going to the closet, took out her green wool cape. Daylight was fading and the chill of the oncoming night crept into the house. But she wanted to see Adam that night – she had to, especially now that she had read the note - or she would pace the house all night, unable to rest like a lost soul which had been roused from its eternal sleep and now could find no rest. But most of all, she needed to see Adam before her courage failed. She adjusted her cape and put a light, airy crocheted shawl over her hair, crossing the ends and tossing them over her shoulders. Climbing down, she went to the kitchen and sliced a hunk of bread and a large wedge of cheese for Mr. Goron's supper and wrapped it in a piece of brown butcher paper. The string bag still held the two jars of jam – Maddy had forgotten them – so Sigrid decided she would give them to Adam after all. As she passed the mantle, she slid the small pistol into her cape pocket, and put Adam's birthday gift in the string bag, pulled on her blue leather gloves, and stepped out onto the porch. She locked the front door and dropped the key in her pocket alongside the letter.

Mr. Goron sat on the bench outside the barn repairing a bridle that had lain useless since the Flynns had lived there. He had oiled the leather and was now replacing the broken buckle.

"Good evening, Missus," he said standing up as she came across the yard. "My, you are in your finery."

"Yes, I suppose so, and good evening to you, Mr. Goron. Have you finished taking care of the stock?"

"Yes, ma'am, I have. Hera, she is eating fine and meseems I saw her foal moving about – it's growing as it should."

"I'm glad to hear that. I've brought you bread and cheese for dinner. I've locked the house so you needn't worry about anything. I don't know what time I'll be home."

"Shall I hitch up the buggy for you?" Mr. Goron took the food and placed all on the bench.

Sigrid paused – the buggy. It would be faster to drive the buggy but not easier as the way to the cabin was rough and what remained of what had once been a wider, well-worn path, was overgrown. Sigrid, going over the journey in her mind, could see how there were areas a buggy couldn't pass. She rejected taking the buggy and although Adam had told her that Hera could be ridden up to the birth, she was always afraid the tightened cinch would do harm to the unborn foal.

"No. Thank you, Mr. Goron, but I'm walking." She hooked the heavy frog at the neck of her cape with nervous fingers as sudden doubt gripped her. It was such an unfamiliar way to where Adam was staying – she had only been that one time and then back - and it was becoming dark quickly although it wasn't yet 6:00.

"You are on your way to your friend's, I suppose. Will you be staying the evening then?"

Sigrid found his questions impertinent and she drew her small stature as tall as she could. "No, Mr. Goron, I am not going to the Morgan's'. As to where I am going, that is my business. Good evening." Sigrid adjusted her head covering and headed out, reviewing the path through her mind again, picturing the landmarks along the way. She looked up into the night sky; the moon was beginning to show, not a full moon but a waning moon bright enough to light the way. What had Mrs. Hellström said about a waning moon? Something from the old country…the waning moon was the time to end bad habits. And bad relationships. Tonight was the perfect night and the phase of the moon seemed to urge her on. With her stomach churning, Sigrid forced herself to put one well-shod foot in front of the other and headed down the path toward the bridge over the noisy creek. She would see Adam – tonight.

The turn off the main way was easy to find but once the moon rose higher and night fell, the animal sounds began to frighten her. Owls hooted and the chirruping of the frogs near the wash was cacophonous. She could see the mountains to her left as they rose in the night sky and the sound of the creek gurgling could be heard to her right, just as it had been earlier that day. As she walked on, she saw piles of boulders and the dark stands of trees, some so thick they looked impenetrable. Her heart thudded. Had she seen these boulders and trees before? Were they the same ones she had passed earlier that day? The moon was suddenly covered by clouds and blackness fell about her; Sigrid stopped, fearful of taking another step as she remembered the snake that had lain in their path earlier that afternoon. And then there was a loud sound but what animal made it, she didn't know.

Sigrid was notorious for becoming disoriented while out in the bush and once she became lost looking for wild berries. Only Adam calling for her set her back on the right trail and seeing the sudden relief on his face when she stepped out of the trees made her feel guilty; he had been worried. And then he had chastised her all the rest of the way back to the house as if she was a naughty child.

"Don't be a frightened child," she whispered to herself. "There are no bears or panthers here, no wolves and it's too cold for snakes to be underfoot. And if you become lost…" Sigrid didn't know what she would do. Would she sit and wait until the morning? Or should she turn about now and go back the way she came - if she could? Suddenly she realized what a wild, foolish thing she had done. She placed one hand at her throat telling herself to calm down. Her panicked breathing slowed. "Just keep going – keep going. Listen to the creek. If worse comes to worse, you'll turn off and find the creek and walk next to it in one direction or another." And barely convincing herself she was safe, she waited until the moon showed again and continued on her way, noting with relief the bent tree she had passed earlier that day and then the pile of one large boulder with the two smaller ones – "like a mother with two children," she said to herself remembering what had come to her the first time she saw it. And there were no animals, no predators who would stalk her, Sigrid remembered, only those that defend themselves. Sigrid decided it would be wise to sing, to warn any creature she was coming so they could avoid her, but she couldn't think of any; every song she ever knew had left her.

"What was that song…" Sigrid whispered to herself. Adam often sang in the evenings as he strummed his guitar and there was the one that always made her smile. It came to her and in a wavering voice, she sang, "Oh, do you remember sweet Betsy from Pike…"

After what seemed like an eternity – she had been through the verses of the song at least four times and was considering which song to next sing - Sigrid saw the cabin in the clearing, the windows glowing golden from lamplight, smoke drifting from the stovepipe into the night sky. Sigrid stopped and looked about the place. Zeus was in the cowshed, his head hanging out the open half-door and he nickered softly as she stepped closer. Adam was there – the horse showed that. Sigrid gathered herself together and walked to the door. The wooden slats had shrunk a bit, some of the caulking having flaked out, and light knifed through in various places. It wasn't a sturdy door. Sigrid hesitated but knocked – and then waited, hardly daring to breathe.

At the edge of the clearing, Mr. Goron sighed and sat down on a fallen trunk. He pulled his bread and cheese out of his jacket pocket and proceeded to eat his supper; in his other pocket was a flask of good whiskey. He wasn't a man to drink much but it was a cold night and he would need the warmth.

So, the Missus had found where the Mister was staying. Mr. Goron thanked God that he had no wife to devil him – keeping up with Mrs. Cartwright and seeing to her welfare was more than a man his age needed but he could well understand her draw for a lusty, healthy man such as Adam Cartwright. And she did make a good salt-rising bread.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to all of you reading this for your patience waiting for chapters.**

**Five**

The door opened and Sigrid caught her breath; Adam was facing her. He quickly lowered his hand holding a pistol, dropping it against his thigh. "Sigrid, what are you…" He gently pulled her inside and for a few moments, Sigrid felt as if they were dancing as he placed one hand on the small of her back and turned with her, finally releasing her and stepping out into the yard. He looked about, then stepped back in and smiling gently, closed the door. "Well, I'm surprised to see you – pleased but surprised; it's cold and late – at least for you to be out so far. How did you get here? I didn't see a horse or wagon."

Sigrid yearned to be aloof and distant, to tell him that since he hadn't come to her, she came to him to put an end to things but she found she couldn't utter a sound. Being so close to him again had left her breathless and she couldn't speak. She stepped further inside, unable to look at anything but him. He hadn't shaved in a few days and his shirt was open at his neck revealing a dark mass of coarse hair. Along with a heavy homespun shirt, he wore an open black leather vest for warmth, but she noticed he was in his stockinged feet and his boots stood inside the door.

He smiled, almost laughing at seeing her; he was happy. "You look – beautiful." He stared at her, then realizing the situation, said, "Come and sit, Sigrid. I have to apologize for the mess," Adam said, hastily clearing the table of rags and a bottle of gun oil and other cleaning paraphernalia along with a chipped bowl and a spoon resting in it. "I finished dinner and was cleaning my gun. I'm not really set up for guests but then…" He smiled awkwardly and his voice dropped as he looked at her. "You're not really a guest, are you? Here, sit down. There's really no place else but here at the table."

As Adam busied himself putting aside all the items, Sigrid sat down, setting the string bag on the table top, pulled off her gloves, and looked about the cabin; they were alone. Adam, couldn't have been expecting Sigrid and rushed the woman out the back door as there was none, only a small kitchen area with open shelves for cans, jars and dishes, a stove that heated the place as well as cooked the food, a stack of firewood, a kitchen pump and sink. The table and three unmatched chairs took up the middle and a stacked set of bunks sat against one wall along with an old crate as a table for holding personal items; Sigrid noticed the cracked hand mirror, a brush and Adam's shaving kit. His carpet bag and saddle bags were against the other wall along with folded clothes stacked on the fourth chair from the table. His trail coat and hat hung on pegs lined up on the wall by the door and a whiskey bottle and glass sat on another kitchen shelf. The manner in which Adam was living, the meagerness of his belongings in the cabin she found endearing and her heart opened to him. But there was still the matter of the other woman.

Sigrid wondered if the reason Adam had stepped outside was to see if the blonde woman had yet come back from wherever she went. Was he afraid the woman would return while she was still there? Perhaps the woman was in the cowshed for some odd reason, saw her walk up and was therefore hiding out with Zeus. Sigrid stared at the narrow beds. The top bunk held a rolled mattress and his beloved guitar, but the bottom bunk was made-up with sheets, a patched blanket and two pillows. Was that where Adam and the woman lay, making love at night? Sigrid judged it no wider than the bunk on The Alliance on which she and Adam had spent many an amorous time; there was always enough room for coupling, it seemed, no matter how narrow the place. And when she and Adam had exhausted themselves on board ship, she would practically curl up on his broad chest, his arms about her. Even now, although there was more room on their bed in the loft, they often lay entwined…

"Coffee?" Adam asked.

"What?" Sigrid's reverie was interrupted.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Adam stood waiting.

She found her voice. "No, I…yes. I suppose. Thank you." She unhooked the frog at the neck of her cape and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it fall over the chair.

"I haven't had a chance to wash the dinner dishes yet. Let me rinse this one out for you." He pushed the pump handle and water gushed out. He rinsed the thick-walled white china cup and then filled it with coffee, putting it on the table before her. He sat down opposite her. "How did you get here? You never answered me."

"I walked."

"Did you now? All that way by yourself in the dark. Not very wise, Sigrid. Actually, damn reckless."

"Reckless is a matter of opinion. And since you seem averse to putting things right, I decided I would do it. I'm not going to sit about and wait until you're good and ready…" She suddenly felt weak with anger and her voice quavered with emotion.

"To be honest, Sigrid – whether you believe me or not - I was going to stop by the house tomorrow morning but now, since you're here, we may as well get things out in the open." His face turned serious. "You did read my note, didn't you?"

She held the mug, staring down at the black oily liquid. "Yes, I read it." Then she raised her eyes. Adam was watching her. The cat at the mousehole, she thought again. He always watched her that way when he expected something from her.

"Did Mr. Goron tell you where I am? Show you the way? Not that it's a secret, but I didn't think he knew exactly where I was and I can't see you wandering about relying on chance."

"No, he didn't tell me."

"Am I going to have to guess?" Adam waited but when Sigrid just looked at him, her mouth set, he laughed. "It was Maddy. I suppose Caleb couldn't mind his own business, after all. But as I said, it's not a secret. I'm just surprised you found your way in the dark. I mean you can get lost between the house and the barn." Adam chuckled.

"If you're going to insult me…" Sigrid started to rise but Adam stood and bending toward her said, "Please don't go. I'm sorry. Please stay – at least a bit longer."

Sigrid sat back down and took a sip of the coffee. It had the burnt taste of having sat on the stove a long time.

"What's that in the bag?" Adam pulled the string bag toward him. "Look like jams."

"Yes, I've been canning. There's plum jam and lilly-pilly. And the package is your birthday gift from me."

"My gift…you didn't need to. Sigrid, I know you were upset, and look still to be, about my being gone on my birthday but I had told you I didn't want a party or gifts. And I had also told you days before you even mentioned the party that I had to go to Dalby, so you planned it knowing I would be gone. If you expected me to cancel the trip just to indulge you, well, it didn't happen. You act as if I went on purpose to thwart you…"

"It doesn't matter, Adam. Mr. Goron and I shared your cake. Applesauce cake, although he didn't know it was to be your birthday cake."

Adam sighed. He was tired of feeling guilty for everything he did. Why did she make things so hard for him? Her need to control wore him down sometimes. But then…he looked at her face – so young and lovely. It seemed every time he saw her, Sigrid only became more beautiful.

"Sigrid, you need to listen to me. I've never really found much reason to celebrate my birthday. I know that birthdays are to be happy times but I always felt a pall over mine since my mother died giving birth to me – not that I remember her but I always knew the circumstances, and my father, well, my birthday was always tinged with sadness for him. As much as he tried to make it a happy time for me, he couldn't separate the two events. And it always seemed…" Adam looked at his wife sitting across from him, and although he hadn't often thought of that day of his 16th birthday, when Sigrid's mother was raped and he saw the vigilante hanging of the dark-haired man, her birthday that past January had reminded him of the circumstances of her conception. But he couldn't mention it to her, that it was another thing he thought of when his birthday came about. "Well, another reason is that it was my 40th. I'm getting old Sigrid. I shouldn't have married you. You deserve a younger husband."

They sat in silence, the only sound being the muted crackling of the fire in the stove. Then Adam spoke. "Should I open my gift?"

"Yes, that's why I brought it."

He opened the bag and disentangled the narrow package from the mesh of the string bag, pulling out the jam jars as well; their metal clamps also catching on the strings. As soon as he held the package, he looked at her. It was obviously a folding knife but he popped the string and unwrapped the decorative green paper.

"This is beautiful, Sigrid. Thank you." Adam ran his thumb over the inlaid whale bone that had a scrimshaw design and then pulled opened the knife, admiring the blade and touching his other thumb to it to test its sharpness. "Thank you, Sigrid. I can use it."

"You're welcome and a belated happy birthday. Mrs. Hellström once told me that a gift of a knife cuts the friendship but I knew you would chide me for believing it – but maybe it's true. After all, you're living here and I'm at the house. I would say we're no longer friends."

"Oh, c'mon, Sigrid." Adam stood up and went to the kitchen. "So, you're saying that knife is the cause of our discord? The reason I'm here is simply because I need time alone." He opened some oiled paper and revealed a partially-eaten loaf of bread. He tore off a hunk. "Would you like some bread and jam?" He waited.

"No, thank you. Did you buy that bread?" She knew that there was a store at the copper mine where the men could buy foodstuffs although their meals were provided, and gifts for the women who traveled about in wagons to make money on Saturday nights. The three large bunkhouses on the property were the sleeping quarters for both the copper miners and the silver miners and a few merchants were considering opening shops in the near vicinity; a blacksmith had inquired if his services were needed on a regular basis. Many towns began close to mines.

Adam sat down and popped open one of the jars. As he spooned out some jam, putting it on the bread, he answered. "No, Mrs. Abernathy baked it."

"Mrs. Abernathy?" Sigrid felt her pulse pound in her ears so loudly as to almost drown out any other noise. That must be the blonde woman – Mrs. Abernathy. She knew many professional women called themselves "Mrs".

"I told you about them, the people who bought a few acres to the east of us. She comes two, sometimes three days a week, does my laundry, straightens up the place. I leave the groceries, a slab of meat, and she cooks for me and takes some back to her husband. I ate her stew tonight. I have some left over. Forgive my lack of manners – I should have asked if you want any. She's a good cook."

"No. Thank you. Mrs. Abernathy, you say?"

"Yes." Adam took a bite of the bread and jam. "This is good jam, Sigrid," he said, and when he finally swallowed, he continued. "They're living out of their wagon and with a baby, things are rough, so I pay her a few dollars and it helps them. They don't have it easy. He bought a few scrub acres but it may be all they could afford." He paused. "Have Mr. Goron keep a close eye on Pansy and Brutus."

"I should go visit them. Take a few jars of jam and maybe knit a little gift for the baby."

"No." Adam said it so sharply, Sigrid looked up. "Stay away from them. Both you and Maddy."

"Why? I should welcome a newcomer to the place. I'd imagine she feels a bit lonely out here and since she knows you, well…"

"I told you to stay away from them and I mean it. I don't trust the husband. I get the feeling he's a bushranger, running away from the law like most of the men about here. People like him - there's something about him – his eyes slide away the few times I've spoken to him, won't look me straight on. But as far as the business arrangement between Mrs. Abernathy and me, things seem to be working out; I leave for the silver mine and when I come home there's enough dinner for two, three days, the place is cleaned and my laundry's washed, dried, and folded."

"No, wonder you don't need me – Mrs. Abernathy is as good as a wife, isn't she? Cooks and cleans and takes care of you. And I suppose you think she's pretty."

Adam's eyes narrowed. "Takes care of me? What's that supposed to mean?" Adam watched her closely. "You saw her, didn't you? You came out here today and saw what she looks like and that's why you're here, isn't it?" He waited while Sigrid struggled with how to answer him.

She tried to think of something plausible but knew she had given herself away; there were many things Adam could forgive – she knew that – but never an outright lie. "Yes, I saw her. She's pretty and just the type to turn your head so I want to know..." Sigrid feared the answer but had to know. "Do you love her?"

Adam chuckled and slowly shook his head, ready to call Sigrid foolish, but seeing her sad face, his voice became warm and intimate. "Oh, Sigrid, how could you think that? Because she keeps house for me? She doesn't fall on her back for me. Hell, I don't even see her. I leave the money on this table at the end of the week and both she and the money are gone when I get home and we're both happy with the arrangement. Now how does that make a love affair? Besides, in my experience, sometimes love is overrated; it's not the most important thing in the world, won't fill a man's belly or solve his problems and taking up with her wouldn't resolve anything between us."

"So, love doesn't mean anything to you."

"I didn't say that. Don't put words in my mouth."

"Far be it from me to do that. But love does mean something to me and all I know is that you're out here, I'm at our house, and you have a woman who comes to clean and cook for you…." Her voice broke and she stopped talking.

Adam reached over and took her small hand, his voice low. "Sigrid, please… I don't want to make you unhappy. I just need some time away on my own. I know I behaved like a jackass, leaving for Dalby the way I did and then staying away, but….things just become too much sometimes and the idea that you locked me out of my own home and were making me practically beg to be let back in, even if it was a joke to you, it wasn't to me, not at the time. It enraged me and with everything else that was happening, the problems with the silver mine and the shoring issues, the cost of the machinery to pump fresh air - I realized I needed to put some distance between us, to gain some perspective before I behaved even worse. But I didn't abandon you. Never.

"I sent Mr. Goron to look after you while I was gone – as well as take care of the place - and I'm paying him a damn mite better than he earned working in the silver mine. I know it's not the same as my working about the place but in a manner it's better; he's there all day taking care of the things I don't have time to do because I'm managing the silver mine."

Sigrid pulled away her hand. Adam sat back and said, "I'm not asking you to forgive me, but it would be nice to have a little understanding."

She felt her throat tighten again. "Understanding? What about understanding my situation - understanding how I feel?"

"Looks like we're still at odds, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Well, I'm going to write…" The letter in her pocket! "Oh, I almost forgot, I have a letter from your father. Since it seems you aren't planning on coming back to the house any time soon, I brought it with me." Sigrid stood up and pulled out the letter, placing it on the table. "And I suppose I'll be going now." She reached for her cape.

"Wait, Sigrid. Please. Don't go yet." Adam stood up as if to stop her. He saw the letter was unopened. "Don't you want to hear what my father has to say?"

"The letter is addressed to you. I doubt he has anything to say to me."

"You could have opened it. I'm sure it's to both of us. Sit down. What he has to say might interest you, at least some of it. Please, sit down." He waited while Sigrid paused, considering. Then she sat down again and so did Adam. "Gives me a chance to use my gift," he said, grinning, while he ran the blade under the flap, slitting it open and removing the paper. He began to read aloud.

"'My Dear Sigrid and Adam'… he addresses the letter to you as well. 'How happy I was to read your letter this evening, Sigrid, as you father was kind enough to bring it by as you requested; you were most thoughtful of me. Your father and I had a short visit and you will be glad to know he is doing well.

I suppose my first news to give is that Joseph and Marianne now have two daughters, one as pretty as the other. Marigold is the newest Cartwright and Daisy adores her little sister, kissing the round plump cheeks and patting her yellow hair whenever she can. Marigold puts me in mind of Joseph as a baby, cheerful and beautiful.

Hoss is doing well and has been courting the new teacher. I believe you met her a few times before you left, Miss Patricia Cowper. I do not know how serious this will become as she tends to interrupt Hoss no matter to whom he is talking, to correct his grammar, so you can only imagine Hoss barely finishes a sentence. But so far, he has been patient and appears grateful for the corrections although I am tempted to advise him to assert himself. Miss Cowper should take him as he is, is my opinion, but I have learned from you that unsought for advice is perceived as criticism.' "

Adam paused and looked across the table at Sigrid before he continued, remembering his conversations with his father about asking for Sigrid's hand and the "advice" to marry another. "'I am happy you celebrated such a joyous Christmas. We had a blizzard at Christmas so unfortunately, Hop Sing, Hoss and I spent the holidays snowed in. Hop Sing couldn't visit his relatives in town or play fan tan nor could Hoss squire Miss Cowper to the Virginia City Christmas ball. But as for me, I longed to see my two granddaughters as there were plenty of gifts for them both under the tree. It wasn't until after New Year's that Hoss and I made the usually short trek to Joe and Marianne's; it was far too dangerous for a wagon and so the two of us rode on horseback. Hoss truly felt like old Saint Nick as he threw the sack of gifts over his back as we trudged through the snow banks in front of their house to get to the front door. Thankfully, Joseph had shoveled a path partway to the door. We ended up staying three days as there was more snow that night but eventually, we enjoyed a series of sunny days and higher temperatures and the snow began to somewhat melt.

'But now we have another concern – that of flooding. It seems that…' "

Sigrid stopped listening as Adam read to her the news of the weather, the ranch and cattle prices, the building of new rail lines, and the latest on their mutual friends, letting the words run over her like warm water. His deep voice thrilled her still, no matter what he was saying. She looked at him critically; he needed a haircut. A lock of wavy black hair fell onto his forehead and the hair about his ears and neck curled in disarray. How she longed to touch the rough growth on his cheeks. Despite the graying hair at his temples, he still looked young to her, still boyish and had an inbred elegance about him.

"'I send my love to both of you and long to hear from you again. Perhaps, one day, you will return to claim your third of the Ponderosa or your progeny will. I only hope I will be alive to see that day.

Your loving father…'

"Well, I don't quite know how to take that last part." Adam said as he folded the letter and slid it in the envelope. "Thank you for asking your father to take him the letter. I need to write him myself."

"Yes, you should." She decided not to tell him her father had written her. "Thank you for reading the letter to me. I should leave now." She stood up again.

"But it's late and cold and you shouldn't walk all that way alone." Adam went around the table and pulled her toward him. "I think you should stay. At least the night. I'll give you the bunk and I'll sleep in the cowshed with Zeus." He smiled mischievously and leaning down, kissed her mouth and then her neck and she felt the heat of his lips on her skin. She reached around him and ran her hands up under his vest and then raked her nails down his back. He groaned deep in his throat. "Maybe we can both fit in the bottom bunk," Adam murmured as he kissed her temples, "if we lie close together and remove all these clothes between us. What do you think?"

"Yes," Sigrid barely managed to say between his demanding kisses. "Yes."

~ 0 ~

Lying in the narrow bunk, Sigrid sighed remembering how she had shuddered, overcome with pleasure and passion. Oh, how could she have lived the past few weeks without him, without his caresses or his voice in her ear? Adam slept, his head resting on her breast as she stroked his dark hair with one hand, her other arm resting across his back, his breath soft and even. Sigrid wanted to stay awake although she felt the heaviness of sleep overtaking her. She wanted to remember the feel of Adam's weight on her, to remember the smell of his skin and the coarseness of his hair. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes. He wouldn't be returning with her to the house in the morning, he had said as much. And although she had wanted to shout that she would leave him then, she would write her father and tell him she was coming home, she knew she wouldn't – she couldn't leave him. Even if he beat her, mistreated her, she couldn't leave him – never - as long as he had the hold on her heart that he did. Was that love or just desire? How could any woman be sure that the urgent hunger for a certain man was love or not? She closed her eyes and finally slept lying with the man she wanted in her arms.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

Although Sigrid tried to be quiet, she closed the stove's grate harder than intended; the folded towel hadn't protected her fingers from the heat of the renewed flames. She paused, waiting, but Adam merely moved in the bunk, not waking. Deciding she would fetch water from the pump outside so as not to make more noise, she slipped out the door and into the yard. She looked up at the dark sky edged with silver and smiled to herself. The early morning was her favorite time of day – it was always so full of promise and then, there was the memory of last night; her heart was full. She walked to the pump by the cowshed but stopped, sniffing the air. She expected smoke from the stove pipe, wood smoke, but this was…pipe tobacco. Suddenly it came to her – why Adam had stepped outside when she had arrived and looked about.

Clutching the coffee pot, she strode in the direction of the smell and saw a shadowy figure standing beside the cowshed, smoke rising into the early morning light. Zeus nickered from inside.

"Mr. Goron - is that you?"

The figure stepped out. "Yes, ma'am, that it is. Lovely morning, is it not?" He shivered, obviously cold. His jacket collar was up about his ears, his cap pulled down.

"Yes, lovely. But a bit cold, wouldn't you say?" Her breath was frosty in the air as was her tone. "You followed me here last night, didn't you?"

"That I did. I saw you taking off into the wild and guessed that it was your mister you were seeking. I followed you to certain you were safe."

Sigrid wasn't sure how angry she should be or if she should be angry at all. "How long have you known where my husband was staying?"

"I'd say about ten – perhaps twelve hours now, judging from the sky." He looked up as the winter sun rose while the moon faded on the horizon.

"You mean you didn't know where he was?"

"That, I did not."

"Well…" Sigrid felt she should be furious with Mr. Goron, skulking after her in the dark. But he had only been seeing to her safety. "Unless you would like to join us for breakfast, I suggest you return back to the house."

Mr. Goron exhaled pipe smoke, judging the situation. He had performed his duty as far as the Missus was concerned and had no desire to be in the company of a newly-reconciled husband and wife – if reconciled they were. His feet were chilled as was his nose and he had passed a most miserable night in the cowshed, huddled down in the straw.

"I think I'll be heading back, if it's all the same to you, ma'am. Give the Mister my regards." He nodded at her as he passed and smoking his pipe, he headed off in the direction they had both come the night before.

She pumped water into the coffee pot, some spilling onto her hand. She held the pot with the other and wiped the wetness off against her skirt, shivering in the chill. She decided not to care if Adam slept any longer or not and went inside to grind the coffee beans and fry a few eggs she saw sitting in a bowl, with as much noise as she could muster.

She banged the door and set about starting breakfast. From the corner of her eye, she could see Adam waking, stretching and then sitting at the edge of the bunk while he rubbed his face and scratched the stubble on his neck, finally reaching for his trousers. For the sake of propriety, she made a point not to look as he slipped them on and padded lightly on bare feet to where she stood.

"Morning, my love," Adam said as he came up behind her. He kissed her neck and wrapped her waist about with his arms. "I haven't slept that well in days. That coffee smells good."

"Help yourself then. I hope you don't expect me to serve you. It's enough I'm making you breakfast before I leave." She pushed his arms away and he stepped about to reach for the same mug he and she had both used the previous night. He rinsed it out, rubbing the coffee residue with his thumb.

"You seem out of sorts this morning," Adam said, reaching for the coffee pot. "Did I do something wrong last night? Been a bit too eager for your comfort?"

She turned on him. "I sent Mr. Goron home. I found him outside the cowshed this morning; he slept with your horse. Anyway, I don't think the coffee's quite ready yet. Sit down and wait for it." She looked about for butter. "No butter?"

"No, but there's a crock of bacon drippings there on the shelf – see it?" Adam asked.

"I see it." She pulled down the jar and using a knife, removed some of the waxy substance and put it in the hot fry pan where it sizzled as it ran about the pan, melting. She broke two eggs and then stepped back while they popped in the hot grease.

Adam gently pulled her aside, taking the spatula from her. "I'll cook the eggs. You'll burn yourself."

"You forget I cook at home all the time…but then, you haven't been there for a while. Perhaps you've forgotten that…" Sigrid picked up a coffee cup to use and stared inside. She took out a stone, examining it. "What are these? I mean besides rocks."

"Oh, those." Adam turned the eggs. "Well, I'm not an expert on uncut stones but I believe those are sapphires and this one…" He slipped the eggs from the spatula onto a plate and then took the cup from her and dug around for one stone, holding it up. "I think this is a diamond – cut and polished, probably about 1, 1 and a half carats. I was thinking I could have it set in a band with a sapphire on each side for that wedding ring I promised you. Would you like that?"

She glanced at the simple gold band she wore on her middle finger so as not to lose it. His mother's wedding ring. She could wear both of them – the one in which she was married and the new one designed by Adam. "Yes, yes, that would be lovely, but where did you find all those and the diamond?" Adam held the clear stone and dropped it in her open palm. She stared at the stone, rolling it about; it glistened and sparkled despite being uncut and unpolished.

"Bathing at the creek which, since the water's so damn cold, is always cursory. But a few days ago, I saw something sparkle and I scooped up the dirt and there was a sapphire – actually two."

"But not all of these are blue. Some are yellow and here's a green one…" She dropped the diamond back into the cup.

"Sapphires come in all colors, except red; those are rubies and I may find you one of them as well. Apparently, they were washed down from the high mountains during the rainy season. Good diamonds aren't often found this way, in streams or rivers, but sapphires, rubies, even emeralds are. In India, it's called gem gravel. People make a living, granted a meagre one, selling gems they find along river banks." He slipped his arm about her waist, pulled her closer, and murmured, "Had we but world enough and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way to walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side shouldst rubies find; I by the tide of Humber would complain." He nuzzled her neck.

She felt the longing that always came upon her, that warmed her, when he held her so close but she couldn't – not yet. "What is that – a poem? And why would he complain? I understand about the rubies, but what's the Ganges?" She pulled away to look at him.

Adam chuckled. "Oh, you are my uncultured, little pagan, aren't you? The Ganges is a river in India – it moves slowly. In the poem, it's a symbol for time, See, it's about a woman who keeps putting off consummating their love as if they had all the time in the world, which they don't, just as we don't, and…it doesn't matter." He kissed her cheek and sat the cup back on the counter, drawing Sigrid to him again. "I tell you what – I'll bathe and shave and then come back to you here and we'll pass 'our long love's day' wrapped about one another. How about it?"

Sigrid was tempted to stay and never return back to the house. Let Mr. Goron milk Pansy and feed Hera and skim the cream from the milk. But she knew she needed to churn the butter and collect the eggs. And it was her day to bake bread because tomorrow Nama would come to do the laundry, that is if Taree wasn't particularly fussy with his teeth breaking through his tender gums. And did Adam really expect her to just fling off her clothes and all her responsibilities and wait for him, opening both her arms and her legs to welcome him to her?

"I can't. I have things to do." She remained in his embrace though, hoping he would protest. She felt his large hand on her hair. Although she had so carefully pinned it up the day before, it now lay about her shoulders, the hairpins lying on the floor by the bed where he had tossed them the previous night.

"Put them off – for a few hours at least. I'll make it worth your time to stay." He kissed her hair and she felt his hands running over her back and then lower.

She pulled away. "If you want to spend time with me, why here? Why not back at the house? Close this place up, Adam – burn it down if you choose – I don't care. If you love me, you'll apologize for staying here and beg to come back home." Her chest heaved with righteous fury.

Adam watched her carefully. "So that's the test – according to you. An apology and then begging to be allowed to return. And If I don't do it, I don't love you – at least in your eyes. Am I clear on that?" He waited.

Sigrid could barely breathe. "I…I just want…" She knew what she should say but she couldn't – that she understood his need for solitude, that being alone was his way of gathering his thoughts, of healing, and that she would wait for him, but then … "No. I just wish you needed me as much as I need you." She turned away and walked over to her cape that was still on the chair. "I'm leaving. Come home, stay here – it makes no difference to me."

He stepped to her and took her arm, turning her to face him. "Stay here with me then – just a day or two, Sigrid. Just the two of us, alone here together. I'll not go to the mine and we can have the time to learn about each other. We never really had that chance; there was always something to be done, something to concern me so I couldn't focus on us and our marriage; I don't think you could either – not really. After all, I never had a chance to court you, to win your heart. Stay with me, Sigrid - here. We'll discover each other."

"Aren't you afraid Mrs. Abernathy would walk in on us?"

He snorted in disgust and released her arm. "Today's not her day. But I need to get to the mine anyway." He smiled and shook his head. "Let me help you with your cape."

"You needn't. I can take care of …" She swung the cape up and the gun fell out of the pocket onto the wood floor. Adam picked it up and handed it to her.

"For protection? Or were you planning on shooting me?"

"I was thinking of shooting the other woman if I caught you two together." She slipped the gun back in the cape's pocket.

"You think you could shoot straight enough?"

"I'd find out," she said, closing the neck of the cape, "but if I got you instead, it wouldn't be a waste of a bullet."

Adam grinned. "Give me a minute," he said, fetching his boots. "I'll saddle Zeus and take you home."

She slipped on her gloves, now in a hurry. "I'll walk. It looks to be a beautiful morning." Sigrid stepped out into the chilly morning, ignoring Adam calling to her. And as her feet found the path homeward, tears stung her eyes. Adam was staying away, even after last night. If he came home, then they would live under one roof again. If not, well, they'd live apart. She saw no other answer as she couldn't make that man do anything he didn't want to.

Adam watched Sigrid's small figure as she walked away. He considered following her, making certain she was safe. He pulled on his boots, grabbed his trail coat and hat and followed her, keeping her in sight until she reached the path leading to the bridge. Then he waited, his hands on his hips, until she disappeared about the bend of trees. Then he turned and headed back to the cabin; the day was now fully broken.

The smoke was still rising from the stovepipe and Adam longed for coffee. The eggs would be cold but he would eat Sigrid's jam on the leftover bread. He'd buy a few cans of beans at the company store for tonight; he knew he could easily take whatever he needed from the shelves, but he made a point of not taking advantage of being a mine owner. He had even considered allowing the miners to purchase shares in both mines; it would make the men work harder since they would be working for their own enrichment. He had yet to sort it out on paper, the price of shares and how the miners could pay for them but he had already mentioned the idea to Caleb who had listened and then said, if it could be done, well, he wasn't against men profiting from their work.

Stepping inside, Adam suddenly was struck with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. Sigrid's long, narrow, elegantly crocheted scarf lay on the floor; it had slipped off the back of the chair and she had forgotten it. He picked it up and ran it through his hands, then lifted it to his face, overcome by sudden emotion. Sigrid was still about him, still in the air like a ghost that haunted him. He dropped into one of the chairs, still holding her scarf.

~ 0 ~

The sound of the axe splitting wood rang out and Sigrid saw Mr. Goron swinging it as he split thick branches of wood. When he saw her, he stopped and held the axe by his side.

"Mornin'" he said. "I thought I'd butcher one of the hogs today. Readying the wood for smoke."

Sigrid noticed the wood on the ground was green and there were leafy branches of ash trees about. She knew little about smoking meat but had once seen her father smoke fish. He would wet branches and place them on the fire so the smoke rose up and "cooked" the gutted fish on the spit above it, the peeled stick through the gills. When the smoke was fresh and rising, he then placed an open-bottomed barrel over it all so the smoke wouldn't escape. This went on for almost a whole day until the fish was perfect and flaky. She wondered how long it would take to smoke the sides of bacon and hams and whatever cuts Mr. Goron chose.

"I'm going to make coffee and breakfast, Mr. Goron. I need to go to Barakula later this morning – I have to post a letter and pick up a few items and I would like you to drive me. Can you put off the butchering until tomorrow?"

He looked about at the wood; he would have to pile it, stack what he could, but it wouldn't dry out in such a short time. And butchering one hog took a man a whole day – no part of the hog went to waste and he was hoping to ask for the ears and tail to fry to a crisp over the fire. And then, if the Missus wanted to make sausage, there was the intestine to wash and clean – a most distasteful task.

"I suppose I can put it off. But the Mister did want it done and I've been here over two weeks and haven't done so yet."

"Then one more day won't matter. Wash up and I'll make breakfast. I hope you don't mind oatmeal this morning."

"No, ma'am. That sounds good to me and if it' all the same, I'll pass the time waitin' for the cereal with a hot mug of coffee."

Sigrid nodded and went into the house, finally finding the key she had dropped into her pocket. She feared she had lost it, dropped it back in the cabin along with the gun, but it had lodged into the pocket seam. She hung up her cape and realized she had left her head covering behind. She slowly pulled off her gloves and placed them on the mantle. The fire would have to be made anew as the ashes were cold.

Once she had the fire going, she went to stir up a fire in the kitchen stove; the chill was finally ebbing away and soon the water was ready for the coffee. She reached up for the coffee canister and saw the small jar with the seeds, the seeds she took to keep _that _from happening. She took it down and pulled out the stopper, staring at the little brown seeds. What if she did end up with child from laying with him? When Adam received word, he would come running back to her, joyous and full of kisses and hugs! Wouldn't he? But what if he didn't? He knew about the seeds. She had tearfully told him about her fears of having a child out there in the wilderness, secretly fearful that she would lose her mind as Felicity Flynn had lost hers – as her mother had. It happened to women, that madness that caused them to be sent away for the "rest cure," as people called it. But Adam had consoled her, held her and said he understood her fears and anxieties. He even said he never really saw himself as a father, especially not at his age. And then standing in her kitchen, Sigrid suddenly considered her own possible death in childbirth. Had Adam considered it as well?

And then there was that small grave. Sigrid had come across it while out walking about. There was a path, not well-traveled, but a path, and she had followed it to a small, open space. And there it was, not even two feet long but an obvious mound covered over with flat stones. Sigrid knew that was to keep it from being dug up by animals. There was no cross or headstone but Sigrid was sure it was the Flynn child's grave; Mark Flynn had buried his child the second time a distance from the house to hide the grave from his mad wife. But that tragedy had been a few years ago and rains had come and gone and washed over the place, plants had grown around it, and yet it was still in a distinguishable clearing. Sigrid had stood and stared, wondering if Maddy or Caleb kept up the grave. But Maddy had said even they never knew where the infant was buried.

It was Adam. Sigrid suddenly knew as she stared at the grave and her heart had stepped up. It was he who checked on the grave, replaced the stones and pulled the weeds that insisted on sprouting among the stones. What did he think while he toiled at the small graveside? That it could just as easily be his child buried out in the wilderness – or his wife?

Sigrid shook a single seed into her palm, stared at it, and then put it in her mouth, crunching it between her teeth before washing its bitterness down with a glass of water. It was done.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to those of you are reading and commenting - it's good to know that you are out there and offering your support. **

**Seven**

It was close to 11: 00 in the morning before Sigrid and Mr. Goron left for Barakula. It would take a little over an hour of travel, and if they wasted no time in town, they could be home about dark. She told Mr. Goron they could eat in town and from what she had observed, he was not one to dawdle over a meal.

The morning chores of feeding the chickens, gathering the eggs and milking Pansy, Sigrid quickly performed after changing into a work dress and donning a hooded cape she had knitted years ago, for its warmth; if it caught on anything and snagged or became stained, it was no great loss. She had leftover creamy milk for Mr. Goron to stir in the pig mash as she decided to forgo churning butter; it was too long and tedious a process and she hadn't the patience or time that morning. Let the pigs enjoy what they could before Mr. Goron chose the ones to butcher.

Once she finished with her chores, she went inside and washed her hands before sitting down at the table to write her father. When she opened the long middle drawer of the corner-desk for stationery, she saw the land deeds. Suddenly curious, she took them out. She knew her name was on the papers as a co-owner but other than that, she hadn't read them despite Adam's encouragement. Sigrid knew the language, couched in legalisms, would be too taxing and she rebuffed his offer to have him explain matters. But now she scanned the paper and was amazed to see how much land they owned – 460 square acres. And here they lived on a corner of it. She wondered what Adam's plans were for the land. Was he wanting to raise cattle as so many were doing in the western part of the country? Or were there treasures below the surface, just waiting to be discovered?

Sigrid pulled out the map that showed the land they owned but it didn't look like any map she had seen in school or even on the wall of the Virginia City courthouse. But she could recognize the creek and how it coursed through their land, snaking about. Could they become wealthy just through the sapphires and other valuable gems that were washed down from the mountains? And did the Abernathys own any land containing part of the creek? She knew that Caleb and Maddy had a section of the creek flowing through their property before it curved back into Cartwright acreage – that, Sigrid could see on the map – but what property did the Abernathys own? Did they know about the gems? Adam left the uncut stones sitting in a coffee cup on the shelf in the cabin, so were they of any value at all? She understood so little of these things.

Sigrid replaced the papers and slammed shut the drawer. Even thinking of Adam caused her frustration. Why was he such a puzzle to her? Usually she had no challenge understanding men as Mrs. Hellström had told her early on that boys will try to steal a kiss and if a girl allowed it, then the boy became emboldened and would touch her breasts, first over her clothes and then, should she have allowed him that liberty, he would yearn for the feel of her bare skin under his hands. And woe to the fair maid then! That lesson she remembered, even on her wedding night when she waited, barely breathing, thrilling at Adam's touch as he explored her flesh. So, according to Sigrid's thinking, since he now felt free to take any liberty he desired with her, why was there so much to him she couldn't understand? Shouldn't they both be open to one another? But Adam was like an onion, layer upon layer upon layer and she seemed to never get to his core.

She sat at the table, picked up the pen and dipped it into the ink jar, staring at the blank piece of paper before her and considered. Her mind made up, she dated the letter and began:

_Käraste Far,_

_Forgive the brevity of this letter. I promise a longer one at a later date, but I wanted to assure you all was well. I received your letter and found myself longing to see your face…_

She wrote a few more paragraphs, not really telling her father much of anything and closed the letter with an endearment. She then looked over her handiwork, quickly reading to see if her father could tell from her wording that she was in such emotional turmoil as far as Adam was concerned; it wouldn't do to worry him or Mrs. Hellström as they were so far away and helpless, but the letter revealed nothing of her heart except that she missed being home. She slipped it in an envelope and moistened the gummed flap, pressing it down. Addressing the envelope, she left it on the table to quickly slip-on the dress she had worn to see Adam, but made a point to put on fresh underclothes. Dressed and feeling back in control of her life and with the letter in her cape pocket, Sigrid climbed into the wagon, assisted by Mr. Goron. She wore her best hat and gloves and felt pretty. Her reticule was over her wrist.

"Shall we go?" She asked. With a nod, Mr. Goron snapped the reins with a "Gee-up" and Hera pulled the wagon out of the yard.

The rode in comfortable silence. Mr. Goron wasn't one to converse and for once, Sigrid was happy it was so. He smoked his pipe and she gazed at the countryside. Often, she forgot she was on the other side of the world until she saw a strange twisted tree or heard the unusual call of an odd bird with flashy plumage. It lent a dream-like quality to her life and that magical feeling hung over her that morning.

Had she really been with Adam just a few hours ago? Had they actually wrapped their arms about one another, kissed one another? And his voice. Had he whispered things to her and done things to her that caused her back to arch as if it would snap in half? It seemed to have been unreal, just a wonderful dream from which she awoke to face actual life again.

"Mr. Goron," she asked, "does my husband confide in you?" She continued to observe the passing scenery.

"No, ma'am, that he does not. I wouldn't expect such a transgression. Your husband knows his place."

Her face became hot. Now she looked at Mr. Goron with restrained fury. No one would insult Adam while she had breath, especially Mr. Goron as Adam had been so good to him. "His place? What do you mean by him knowing 'his place'?"

"It is a rare man who knows his place in the world and can maintain it. You husband, ma'am, he is one of those. He knows he is of greater stature than most, having education, intelligence, wealth and physical strength. Others recognize those qualities but he does so as well and manages to walk the narrow way.

"You see, ma'am, I am a poor Cornish miner. He knows that to confide in me would change his position regarding our working relationship. One, it would make me uncomfortable and that he knows. It might also reveal a vulnerability and he wouldn't care to do that either. So, that is what I meant by your husband knowing his place in the world."

"Well, what did he tell you about watching me? What were his instructions?'

Mr. Goron took the pipe from between his teeth and looked at her. She was certainly a beautiful woman but like every other woman he had known, prying. "Practically nothing. Just told me to keep watch and see no harm came to you or the property. Then other things, such as completing the fencing and butchering the hogs."

Sigrid looked away with a huff; she was now on the same level as butchered hogs and post holes. Mr. Goron smiled to himself and clamped his teeth down on the pipe stem. It was a lovely day to be outside.

~ 0 ~

They had a quick lunch at the only restaurant in the small town. It was simple fare but Mr. Goron seemed to enjoy the stewed pork served with savory carrots and potatoes. He used hunks of the bread to wipe up every bit of the brown sauce on his plate and when the woman who refilled their coffee cups asked if they cared for dessert. Mr. Goron said he would take the bread pudding. Sigrid felt a bit put-out as he hadn't asked her if it was permitted, considering that she was paying, but she said nothing.

Checking the little watch pinned to her dress, Sigrid saw that it was almost 2:00 and she needed to be quick. The last time she'd worn the watch was when they arrived in Australia and when she had wound it before leaving for Barakula, it brought back a flood of memories. How she had longed then for just a smile from Adam – how she delighted in his caresses, thrilled to his kisses. And she considered, she hadn't yet grown much beyond that.

"Shall we go to the general store, Mr. Goron?" Sigrid pulled on her gloves once they stepped outside although the day had pleasantly warmed.

"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say."

That's how a man should reply to a woman, Sigrid thought – _Whatever you say_. But, she considered, if Adam should happen to respond that way, she was certain it would be tinged with sarcasm.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes," Sigrid said, smiling, Mr. Goron standing dutifully a distance behind her. The store was one long building. Half was the general store and post office, and the other half, separated only by a makeshift wall of shelves holding canned goods, was a saloon. Mr. Hughes served as bartender and as the enforcer of his establishment's rules being a huge man whose girth was almost the equivalent of his height. Mrs. Hughes managed the store, selling goods to all who passed through, whether on return visits or pushing further west. Since she endorsed temperance and freely gave lectures on the sins of drink to anyone who stood long enough to listen, and few rarely did, she perpetually frowned listening to the carousing in the saloon half next to the relative calm and quiet of her half of the building.

"Well, Mrs. Cartwright, it's been a while since we last saw you. You're looking well." It was Mrs. Hughes habit to use the plural pronoun as if she spoke for both herself and her husband which she usually did, even when he was standing beside her.

Sigrid smiled. "Yes, it's been awhile, and thank you. It's good to see you are well and how is Mr. Hughes?"

"He's the same as always, thank God above. And how's your mister? Haven't seen him in, oh, must be close to a month now. Such a handsome man and he doesn't sit about making love to a bottle of whiskey as some do."

"He's well, thank you. Now, I've brought my list…" Sigrid said opening the clasp on her reticule, pulling out her list. "And I also have a letter to post." Sigrid pulled the envelope from her pocket. "It's to my father back in the States."

"Oh, yes. We remember that letter coming through our hands." And glancing at Mr. Goron, she asked in a low voice, "Who is he?" She nodded his way.

"Oh, this is Mr. Goron, our hired hand." Sigrid turned to him. "Is there anything you find you need, Mr. Goron?"

"If I could buy some tobacco. After, I'd like to go t'other side and have a small scotch whiskey. That is if you're obliging, Missus."

"Oh, yes, of course. Please help him first," Sigrid stepped away and looked at the bolts of fabric, considering that their display didn't offer more variety than Mr. Naples did. Mr. Goron bought three plugs of pipe tobacco and then, tipping his hat to Mrs. Hughes who had been talking about the evils of drink the whole time she offered him his choice of quality tobacco at different prices according to their countries of origin, Mr. Goron walked through the small opening in the display of canned goods, and disappeared to the other side of the building.

"Men and their spirits," Mrs. Hughes said, shaking her head. "Drink leads to sin and woe for all women, all wives. Why I can't tell you how many women I knew, including my own mother, may she rest in God's arms, whose husbands beat them when under the influence of spirits. Why…"

"Mrs. Hughes," Sigrid said, smiling, "I give you my support about the evils of drink, but I am in a bit of a hurry. I want to be home before dark. So…" She looked at the half-sheet of paper which was her list. "If I could have a small side of bacon, six pounds of coffee, seven pounds of flour, at least three pounds of white sugar, if you have it…oh, and do you have any vanilla extract as well as baking soda? And salt – I need table salt. Also, potatoes – a good ten pounds. I see you have some baked bread. Is it fresh?"

After half an hour, three large wooden crates had been filled with Sigrid's groceries including some canned fruit and vegetables she couldn't herself grow. She even splurged on two cans of peaches which cost dearly since they were imported from England but she planned to make Adam a peach pie once he returned home. Mrs. Hughes totaled the items and Sigrid paid while listening to her gossip about all those who had been to the store and who had purchased large amounts of spirits.

"Maybe you know a Mr. Abernathy?" Mrs. Hughes asked. "He comes from up your way. Said he owns a small place although getting him to talk was more difficult than getting him to pay my price; he kept trying to dicker me down like we don't cut our prices to the bone as it is."

Sigrid's heart thumped. Abernathy! "Yes, I think I heard my husband mention him. A small spread, I believe and he has a wife and child. I believe that's what my husband said." Sigrid hoped Mrs. Hughes would tell her whatever she knew and hoped she didn't seem too eager for it.

"Does he now? A wife and child? He never mentioned them and by looking at him, I wouldn't have chosen him as a family man. Bought quite a few bottles from us and items only for digging, excavating, and he stayed getting rotten drunk 'til Mr. Hughes locked up the place and had to toss him out on his ear. He purchased a shovel and some pickaxes. Seems he might believe there's something valuable on his land and being so close to the Morgan & Cartwright mines, he may be right."

Sigrid just smiled. A shovel and pickaxes. They could be used for farming, for breaking the dirt by hand and for planting but they did seem more aligned for excavation. "Would you mind telling Mr. Goron I'm ready to leave? I don't feel I should go into the other side."

"Of course," Mrs. Hughes said and started about the counter. "But you said you had a letter to post."

"Oh, yes!" Sigrid quickly scanned the counter and saw the letter where she had placed it. "Here it is. How much?"

Mrs. Hughes hefted it and said, "Not much to tell your father – it's light. I'd say 10 pence ought to do it." Sigrid dug in her coin purse and pulled out the amount in silver coinage. Mrs. Hughes turned to slip the letter into the largest slot for outgoing mail and then asked, "Would you like the mail waiting for the mines? It's quite a bit for both Mr. Morgan and your husband."

"Oh, yes. I'll take it back with me." Mrs. Hughes took out the bundle and placed it on the counter. There were catalogues for mining equipment and parts, a catalogue of men's work clothes and a variety of envelopes.

"We'll be getting' Mr. Goron for you then." And Mrs. Hughes passed into the saloon.

Sigrid shuffled through the mail while waiting and saw one letter addressed to Adam. She stared at it. Her mouth went dry and she couldn't breathe and the room began to swirl about her. It was from Mrs. Henry Dawson, Virginia City, Nevada, United States of America. That was Mary Dawson. And she was writing Adam. Sigrid was so focused on the letter she didn't notice Mrs. Hughes' return.

"Mr. Goron's comin' and…bad news?" Mrs. Hughes asked upon seeing Sigrid's face. "You look about to faint, my child!"

"What? No, no, I just…I just feel a bit light-headed…" She gripped the edge of the counter with one hand, her other closing about the envelope.

Mrs. Hughes rushed to put her arm about Sigrid and to guide her to a chair against the far wall. "Now, you sit – breathe deeply - I'll fetch you something."

Sigrid heard Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Goron conversing and through the roaring in her ears, she heard, "…stay with her a moment. I'll be right back."

"Mrs. Cartwright, can you hear me?" Mr. Goron leaned over and looked at her pale face. Perhaps she was with child, he considered. Women often fainted when in the family way.

"Yes, I can hear you – of course. I just…for a moment there…"

Mrs. Hughes had quickly come back and held a shot of whiskey toward her as she bent down. "Now, swallow this! It'll bring you to your senses, soon enough." She pushed the small glass into Sigrid's hand and encouraged her to down it, which Sigrid did.

Oh, my!" Sigrid said, coughing and reacting to the instant thrill of the fiery liquid through her system. "Oh, that was…"

Mr. Goron chuckled. "You sit, Missus, and I'll take your goods out to the wagon."

"As much as I'm against spirits," Mrs. Hughes said, "like all else on God's green earth, they are good for something. It'll get your blood to running back to your heart again."

Sigrid cheeks flushed hot and she fanned herself with Mary Dawson's slightly crumpled letter that she still held in her hand. The letter. Sigrid looked at it again and wondered what news it contained.

~ 0 ~

All the way back to the farm, Sigrid held the mail. She had tucked the many envelopes into a catalogue but she could think of nothing else except Mary Dawson and what she could have written. Had Adam written to her and Mary was only responding? Had he spilled his heart to Mary Dawson and told her what a mistake he had made by not marrying her? Sigrid told herself she was letting her imagination run wild just as she had with Mrs. Abernathy. Or had she? Had Adam duped her into believing Mrs. Abernathy was nothing more than hired help, a maid and laundress?

No, she told herself, she was being foolish. Why Adam might just as well suspect her of carrying on with Mr. Goron! But Mr. Goron wasn't a youthful, virile, handsome man and Mrs. Abernathy was a full-breasted, wide-hipped, pretty young woman. Sigrid tried to put it all out of her head but couldn't. Both women rose before her like demons who poked her with small pitchforks, not letting her rest.

Mr. Goron kept glancing at her as they went along, hoping she wouldn't have another fainting spell. But he had a small flask of rye in his pocket and would be glad to proffer it should she feel a faint coming on.

They pulled up into the yard and Sigrid slowly climbed down, not waiting for Mr. Goron's assistance. "Please bring the boxes in," Sigrid said. "I'll fix a quick dinner. Fried eggs, bacon and some of the rye bread?"

"Yes, ma'am. That would be good."

Cooking, feeding Mr. Goron and then cleaning up afterwards, as well as putting away her groceries, kept Sigrid's hands busy but her mind always went back to the mail lying on the mantle. Her stomach was in a knot and all she could manage was a piece of the rye bread dipped in the hot bacon fat. She stood in the kitchen and placed the washed and dried fry pan on the stove for use in the morning.

Walking back to the parlor, Sigrid stared at the mail. She opened the catalogue and removed Mary Dawson's letter. She turned up the wick on the lamp and held the envelope against the glass globe, but she could read nothing as the letter, as she expected, was folded on itself. She made a sound of disgust and examined the envelope flap.

When she was a girl, many letters came closed with sealing wax. If this one had a wax seal, she could crack it and open the letter, telling Adam the seal must have broken during the trip to Australia. But since the prevalence of the telegram and its use in the Civil War, pre-made envelopes with gummed flaps became popular and everyone used them. She tried to lift the flap, to peel it up; sometimes the gum was inferior or old and didn't seal well but this one seemed to be set tight. Sigrid stared at it, and the elegant handwriting: _Mr. Adam Cartwright_.

Adam had said she could have opened his father's letter, he wouldn't have minded. Could she use that argument to open this letter? She put the letter back on the mantle, knowing that Adam would see right through such a weak excuse. Perhaps she should write Mary Dawson, even with her letter unopened, and tell Mary to stop writing a man who wasn't her husband – that he was now a married man and she should end her friendship with Adam. But without knowing what Mary's letter was about… And if she did write Mary, Sigrid feared Mary would take the letter to Adam's father who, in turn, would write Adam saying that Sigrid had done a terrible thing. But that letter, if Ben Cartwright wrote such a one, Sigrid could read, that is if it came into her hands. And Ben might condemn Sigrid's action of excoriating good, kind, beautiful, widowed Mary Dawson who had done nothing more than write a letter to her beloved friend, Adam?

Sigrid looked once more at the letter sitting atop the stack of mail. Tomorrow she would walk over to Maddy's and leave the mail for the mines while Mr. Goron slaughtered the pigs and Nama did the laundry, what little there was. But she would mention the letter to Maddy, perhaps take it with her and even convince Maddy to possibly steam it open. After all, the envelope was already somewhat crumpled and then she could honestly say she hadn't opened it. She knew it wouldn't be the truth but it wouldn't quite be a lie either.

So, after knitting for a bit, her mind more on lies and deceit and mysterious letters than anything else, Sigrid finally felt drowsy. But all night she tossed and turned, dreaming about letters and lovely Mary Dawson smiling and singing with a voice like an angel while Adam strummed his guitar, obviously in love. And then Sigrid's dreams shifted to the large-breasted Mrs. Abernathy blocking the distant cabin doorway with a pick-axe, sapphires and diamonds hanging in multiple loops about her neck and with Adam behind her, caressing her, one hand slipping between her thighs.

Sigrid suddenly woke with a sob. They had just been dreams and yet the loss and grief felt real, like a knife in her heart. Sigrid lay calming herself. Adam singing with Mary Dawson and then seeing him with Mrs. Abernathy had been dreams - imaginary. But reality was that just the night before, she had lain with Adam, felt his arms about her, heard him whispering his love for her and relished his hot kisses on her throat and breasts. That had been real, not a dream at all. But now, that seemed more a dream than the ones she had just experienced. Sigrid, sitting up, pulled aside the curtains and glanced out the frost-edged window, the orange tinge along the horizon preceding full sunrise. She had never felt this way before, so jealous and distraught over imagined infidelities. Marriage should be happiness – or so she had thought – but all those times as a young girl when she had imagined what being married would be like, she now knew had just been youthful fantasies that consisted of constant unbridled joy with a faceless man who would adore her and cater to her every need while tenderly kissing her. But the man of her romantic fantasies now had a face and a mind of his own. Sigrid knew that the sooner she stopped trying to control Adam the happier they both would be, but he was so frustrating and stubborn. And he even seemed happier without her.

But Mary Dawson had written Adam a letter and Mrs. Abernathy cleaned the cabin and cooked; they both meant something to Adam. Sigrid wanted to be done with these women who threatened her position as Adam's wife. But, she considered, maybe her position wasn't as secure as she believed.

She slipped on her robe and went downstairs to the dark, cold parlor, determined to resolve her problems one way or another or she would truly drive herself mad.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

After firing up the stove, putting on coffee, and starting up the hearth fire, Sigrid went back to the loft and began to search Adam's drawers for anything dealing with Mary Dawson. Had she given him a memento or exchanged gifts or cards expressing affection? Sigrid had to know. She slid her hands under the clothes Adam had left but there was nothing. She stood up, looked about and went to the closet and began sticking her hand in the pockets of the two suit jackets but found nothing there either. She thought of the downstairs closet and hurried down. Pulling a dining chair over, she climbed on it to toss down his valise. Then she opened it. There was nothing; she ran her hand about inside the cloth pocket - nothing. She placed it back on the top closet shelf and then checked the pockets of his better trail coat hanging there beside her woolen suits.

It was useless; Adam wouldn't have kept anything from Mary anyway. After all, he wasn't sentimental. And once he had told her there was no use rehashing the past, thinking about "what ifs" because nothing could be changed. She sighed, and going back up to the loft, dressed warmly for the day ahead. Suddenly, Sigrid was overcome with shame for her cursory search of Adam's things. She wouldn't like it if he went through her drawers and her clothes looking for love letters of such. But then, Sigrid rationalized, he had no reason to do such a thing; she had no past with another man that would interest him. But if he showed a bit of jealousy, Sigrid would be flattered. If only a man she knew from back home would write her.

After his breakfast and the return of his coffee mug and plate, Mr. Goron fed the horse and pigs while Sigrid milked Pansy who munched at her breakfast of oats and green hay. Sigrid then let Brutus out in the fenced area. He was becoming intractable, butting against her thigh and swinging his head about. Mr. Goron had told her just last week that Brutus was "feeling his oats" and should be castrated unless he was to be used for breeding; he would make a fine stud bull and bred to another Jersey, he could start a line of good, tasty beef. Sigrid had told him to ask Mr. Cartwright about the castration and then added that her husband didn't share his plans with her. Mr. Goron said nothing, just raised a brow.

When the chores were finished, Mr. Goron asked Sigrid if she had changed her mind about choosing which hog he should butcher – the one for today and then next week, the second one.

"No, I haven't any choice. It's a bit like being an executioner, isn't it?"

"I've never really given much thought to it. There are matters that need to be done and the hogs are raised for slaughter; it's just the way of the world. I'll get to work then." He walked away but Sigrid called him back. He turned, looked at her curiously and slowly walked back. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Does it…is there any noise?"

"Noise, ma'am?"

"Yes, when they die. I mean chickens, they don't make any noise." Sigrid had seen Adam pick up a chicken by its neck and with a quick flick of his wrist, snap its neck. It was quiet and quick. "Do the hogs?"

Mr. Goron pursed his lips, looking down. "Yes, ma'am, there is some squealing but once I slit its throat, well, then there's just the butchering. I hamstring it, drain the blood and then the slicing is clean."

"Oh, I see…" She went pale and Mr. Goron became concerned that she would faint.

"Do you need to sit down?" Mr. Goron asked, putting out one hand to assist should she require.

Sigrid pulled herself up. "No, no. I really don't want to hear it though – the squealing. My father said that pigs are intelligent animals and it makes me wonder if they're aware what's about to befall them. Do you think they do?"

"No, ma'am, I don't. If they knew, well, why would they stay about? Just for the mash? Should the boar want, he could use his bulk to batter down the barrier and release them all."

"Yes, I suppose so." Sigrid smiled weakly. "Well, I'm expecting Nama today so I'll be in the house."

"Yes, Missus." He stated to walk away but stopped. "I need to ask, will you be wantin' the blood, boiled bits and innards for sausage? Blood sausage is mighty tasty – a bit of an iron taste but delicious with the right spices. And as for the chitterlings, do you want them? I can rinse out the large intestines for sausage casing but they either have to be filled and twisted off quickly to be smoked or boiled; they don't keep even in the root cellar. And I was wondering if you minded if I took the ears and tail. Perhaps the trotters as well. Boiled in brine and canned, they're might tender and tasty."

Sigrid was non-plussed. "I…take what parts you like, I don't really…no, I don't want the – what did you call it? Chitterlings?"

"Yes ma'am. There's also head cheese. What pot should I use for boilin' the head?"

Sigrid felt helpless; she really knew nothing about butchering hogs or what to do with the variety of meat afterwards. Trotters and head cheese and pig ears and intestines…she just wanted fresh bacon and Sunday ham, chops and pork roast. "I really don't know…I mean…I'll bring you a pot, my Dutch oven. Will that do?"

Mr. Goron agreed that it would serve. Sigrid, after fetching the heavy cast-iron pot, tried to carry it over; Mr. Goron rushed to take it from her. She then saw Nama walking out of the brush and toward the house. Seeing her, Sigrid felt relief. She didn't understand why she did since Nama barely spoke although she smiled genially and answered any questions. But Sigrid did feel as if an old friend had arrived.

Sigrid rushed to her. "Oh, Nama, how good to see you. But where's Taree?"

"Oh, Taree, fussy! His auntie nurse him today with her baby and give him leather to chew on for gums." Nama pointed to hers, then noticed Mr. Goron setting up the chain with the hook. "He butchering hogs?"

"Well, yes, he is. Do you know about butchering animals?"

"All family, aunties, cousins, knows that," Nama said grinning. "Fried pig skin for Taree to chew would be good."

Mr. Goron stopped, overhearing Nama, and said, "Well, if you know how to butcher, I could use the help. If it's all right with the Missus, you can take your pick of parts for your assistance." Both Mr. Goron and Nama looked to Sigrid.

"I…well, I can take care of the house chores…" There would be no going to Maddy's house and another day of the matter of the letter on the mantle would pass unresolved. "But it sounds like a good bargain." Sigrid smiled but she was disappointed.

Nama, grinning, rolled up the sleeves of her shapeless dress and she and Mr. Goron headed around the barn to the sty, but he called over to Sigrid, "I'll give you a fresh cut of pork for roasting tonight." Sigrid hurried to the house; she could already hear the pigs and hogs protesting the humans' interference as Mr. Goron caught the one for butchering.

Sigrid sat inside the house, her hands over her ears. Even with the door closed and the windows tightly shut, she could hear the hog's squealing and then the silence. It filled her with despair, that an animal she helped raise was now being slaughtered so she and others could eat it. "You foolish thing," she told herself. It was, as Mr. Goron said, the way of the world.

Sighing deeply, Sigrid knew she had to do something to take her mind off Mary Dawson and her letter and the slaughter outside the barn. And then there was Mrs. Abernathy at the cabin. Sigrid looked about the room. She could dust but better she knit until it was time to prepare lunch for Mr. Goron and Nama. Then the bookcase caught her attention.

Adam had built a tall bookcase but it was yet finished. He needed to drill holes for the pegs to hold the shelves that lay stacked against the wall and then there was the decorative piece he was going to place across the top. Sigrid found she had a talent for decorating when Adam bought her a small set of wooden-handled tools with which to gouge out shapes of various widths and depths. On the curved board, she had drawn a design of vines that rose and fell like two garlands meeting in the middle and worked assiduously with the tools until the design was completed. She felt like a small child when Adam had praised her talent but she did enjoy the recognition for something other than a tasty pie or a passionate tussle under the sheets.

But the books, those he had brought from the Ponderosa and the ones he had found in the crate on the property, were stacked about next to the bookcase. Adam calling her an uncultured little pagan had stung, not the first time he had alluded to her lack of education and knowledge of literature or history and he often quoted poets and writers of whom she was ignorant. There was that poem, the one about the Ganges and rubies… Sigrid would find the poem, read it, and quote some lines back to him; then he would have to acknowledge that she knew a little something about poetry – no longer would she be "uncultured". And suddenly, it seemed like a wonderful idea to educate herself.

She kneeled by the books, her head bent sideways, one hand running down a stack of books, reading the titles. Poetry – there were four books on poetry in that stack. She would start with one and glance through it for the poem and then work her way through the other three. The first one she chose was near the bottom and she hooked a finger into the spine and pulled, but the whole stack of books toppled over.

"Oh, sugar," she muttered and then laughed at herself for using the childish curse. "Oh, shit!" she practically shouted into the empty air. That's what Adam always said when things didn't go well. Sigrid would be his equal in cursing as well.

She picked up the books to restack them and noticed that many seemed books Adam had used in college, books on engineering and mathematics – algebra in particular. There was a book on logic by Isaac Watts but one book in particular caught her attention: _A Vindication of the Rights of Women_. Sigrid smiled to herself. This would be the first one she would read and then she could use this author's arguments to establish herself and her rights. Not that Adam ever tried to take her rights away but then, Sigrid considered, what were her rights? She was ignorant of them as well.

Sitting on the floor, Sigrid opened the book. A corner of paper stuck out between the pages as if someone had used it as a bookmark and left it there, but when it fell over, the paper had shifted. Sigrid pulled it out. It was a letter. Adam had stuck a letter in the book. Her heart thumped and with shaking hands, Sigrid opened the letter.

_My Dearest Adam…_ Sigrid stopped reading. Her head began to spin and fearing she would faint, she closed her eyes and drawing up her knees, rested her head on them. It was just a letter – one letter from someone whom Adam had never mentioned. But he had kept it all this time, stuck it in a book. And the woman had called him, _Dearest_. She tried to calm her breathing. It was another ghost rising up to haunt her, to taunt her. Adam had a life before her – Sigrid knew that, so why was she behaving like a ninny? But it did seem as if the world she had so naively inhabited had unpleasant surprises about every turn.

Raising her head, Sigrid looked at the date – 4 October1848. So long ago. She had been a mere child playing about her father's house when Adam had received the letter. He had been a young man, about 18, probably in Boston, away at school at the time. Taking a deep breath, Sigrid read the short letter written on pale blue paper.

_My Dearest Adam, _

_My heart is breaking as my father insists that I marry my Charleston second cousin, Eben Hightower. I am unable to do otherwise since, after what has happened, I am unmarriageable. My mother assures me that no one outside of Virginia City could possibly be aware of the matter and cause a scandal. My cousin is graciously accepting me as his wife but I believe the great amount of money my father is offering may be something he and his family considered in his decision._

_I shall never stop loving you, Adam. Never. I have given up any hope of life with you but know that I will never love another as you have my heart as you had my body ~ completely._

_Please do not write nor seek me out. Just know that my feelings for you will never change, can never change. Please forgive me. And if you can find it in your heart, wish me some happiness._

_Jeanette_

Sigrid stared at the paper; just who was this man she married with such a past? He had never mentioned Jeanette—not even when he had told her the veiled story of his friend Matt. Jeanette must be too painful for him to discuss. Was she his first love? People never forgot their first loves. Had Adam forgotten Jeanette and this letter written so long ago? And what was the scandal? Had Jeanette given herself to Adam?

Clutching the letter, Sigrid thought back to all the people in Virginia City she had known or met, of all the people in the church her father spoke to after services. Had he ever asked anyone about Jeanette? "And how is your daughter, Jeanette, and her husband?" Sigrid couldn't remember anything like that. But then her father wasn't especially sociable. Oh, what did it matter? It was so long ago! It was just the idea that Adam had lived a full life, known other women, caressed them, kissed them, told them he loved them…. and they loved him in return. She took a shuddering breath and refolded the letter, placing it back in the book – page 94. Yes, page 94 in case she cared to read it again, cared to stare at it and absorb Jeanette's tragic words at another time.

Sigrid stood up. "Now stop this foolishness," she told herself as she wrung her hands. She would bake bread. And there was butter to churn while the bread baked. There would be pork roast tonight but her Dutch oven was taken by Mr. Goron. And which vegetable should she serve with the roast? There were canned carrots and of course, the two sacks of potatoes. Potatoes and carrots. Or should she serve green beans?

Sigrid glanced at the mantle, the fire going fully underneath. She was tempted to read Mary Dawson's letter and then toss it into the flames, close out that part of Adam's past, but decided it could sit there until Adam came to the house again. Mary Dawson's letter was just another piece in the puzzle of Adam's past and Sigrid wondered if she would ever have a complete picture.

~ 0 ~

With the windows open, Sigrid could smell the smokehouse fire. She had a fresh pork roast crisping in the oven along with whole potatoes, cleaned and roasting in their skins beside it. The house was redolent with odors and of them all, she most enjoyed the smell of the fresh-baked bread. Seeing the crusty loaf always gave her a sense of accomplishment.

Kulan had come for Nama a few minutes earlier, and brought a sack with him. How he knew that she would require one to take away her chosen parts of the butchered hog, Sigrid didn't know. It seemed as if all the Aborigines communicated over distances, somehow knowing what the other was thinking. Nama had once explained that all aboriginal people of Australia were related, all were cousins and aunties and uncles – all of them. Sigrid wondered if Kulan was actually her brother or not and also about how the Aborigines took mates if they were all considered related. But it didn't seem polite to inquire so Sigrid never raised the subject again.

For her payment for the day's work, Nama chose the hog head minus the ears but with the brain and eyes intact, long, thick strips of the fatty skin, a haunch, a shoulder, and the small intestines. She eyed the trotters, but Mr. Goron claimed them along with the hogs' ears and tail. But other than that, Nama was satisfied with her share and Kulan put the hog's parts in his sack, escorting Nama home, flies buzzing about them.

~ 0 ~

Adam dismounted before Zeus came to a complete stop. All afternoon, actually ever since Sigrid had walked away from him the morning before, he had thought of nothing but her and her smooth white throat and thick, dark hair that he had twisted about his hands that night as she leaned over him on the narrow bunk. He had whispered, "When I lie tangled in her hair, and fettered to her eye, the gods that wanton in the air, know no such liberty."

Sigrid had lightly laughed, the rosy tips of her breasts skimming his chest as she moved. "Another poem, Adam?" The she ran her tongue along his lower lip.

"Yes, but you're more beautiful than any poem could ever be. Oh, Sigrid, how I adore you?" He clasped her head and drew her down for a kiss. In that moment he had wanted nothing else but her.

Adam shut his eyes and remembered that night – he wanted Sigrid, ached for her. He decided he would now apologize even though he felt she should be the one to, but since they had been together and he had held her to him and relished her, delighted in her, he cherished her more than his pride. Sigrid's conditions for his return were ridiculous – well, Adam considered, not so much ridiculous, but who was she to demand he ask, beg, to be able to return to his own house? He had improved the house with his bare hands, built a good section of the fencing about their property and bought the first of their stock. He didn't want to be a pig farmer but run beef and although he owned only one cow and a young bull, it was a start. What he needed was a reliable ranch hand, someone younger and stronger than Mr. Goron but humble enough to learn from the older man.

Mr. Abernathy was his last choice for an additional hired man, but the last two times Adam had crossed paths with Mrs. Abernathy, she had mentioned their few acres didn't seem good for farming – her husband said it was only good for raising blisters and his ire - and wondered if Adam could take on her husband at the mine or – when she asked this, she dropped her eyes - perhaps Mr. Abernathy could help out on the Cartwright farm? Adam had corrected her early on – it wasn't a farm as he wasn't looking to raise crops, but as the place became larger, he thought to raise Jersey steers for their valued beef. Perhaps, once his enterprise became greater, he could hire on her husband. In the meantime, if Mr. Abernathy cared to work at the mine, he should visit the camp to sign on. Have him ask for Adam Cartwright. Mrs. Abernathy smiled but her husband never showed up for a job.

"You wait here, boy," Adam told his horse, dropping the reins and patting Zeus' neck. "I need to wash, shave and change and then we're heading home, going to see my girl tonight." Smiling, he opened the door and was surprised to see Mrs. Abernathy still in the kitchen, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, stirring a pot of some type of soup. The place was warm from the stove fire, almost over-warm.

"Mr. Cartwright, you're home early." She placed the wooden spoon on a small plate and wiped her hands on her apron. She quickly pushed back the hair that had fallen into her face.

"I knocked off early. How's Nathan?" Adam bent and looked at the child who was lying in a basket on the bunk. He was a pretty child with soft blonde hair but he had a rash on his cheeks. "I swear he's grown since I saw him two weeks ago."

"Oh, yes, he's growing so quickly – becoming heavy. But he's been fed and now, hopefully he'll sleep awhile." She walked up behind Adam as he stood looking down at the baby. "The soup's not ready yet. I was going to make dumplings, waiting until it was closer to your usually getting home time as they cook so quickly."

Adam turned, grinning, and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. "Well, you can take it all home with you."

"But what will you be eatin' then?" She looked concerned.

"If need be, I'll cook myself some eggs but I have someplace to go and can't spare the time to eat."

"I don't mind stayin' a bit longer and makin' the dumplings for you. Really. My man doesn't expect me for a bit longer."

"Nonsense. Here, I'll pour the soup into your tin and you can head home. Besides, it's going to be a cold one tonight; my breath was already frosting in the air. Take your Nathan home and see he keeps warm."

"It's hard," she said, her voice becoming tight. "There's nothing but the camp fire for cookin' and heat -the wagon's cold. To be honest, I rather enjoy being here and keepin' the two of us warm. This is such a nice place. I hate to think of goin' back out…" A sob escaped her and she held her apron up to cover her face.

Adam felt guilty for hoping he would have a night of warmth and pleasure with Sigrid while Mrs. Abernathy went back to a cold wagon for a home and more than likely, a surly husband. He had seen a few bruises on her before, her jaw and arms, and wondered if Mr. Abernathy took his frustrations out on his wife although the one time he had asked, she had denied the bruises were at his hands. Adam was now tempted to comfort her, but his better sense told him to remain distant; he was her employer and she was an attractive woman and they were alone. The idea of offering the Abernathys the cabin when he finally returned to Sigrid's arms, that is if she accepted him back as easily as he hoped she would, came to mind. But having them live on his property posed possible conflicts. Back in Nevada, he and his father had often had to rid many squatters who settled in line shacks or elsewhere on the Ponderosa, and set about staking out acreage for their own use. According to the law, a squatter had to be removed or they could file for a legal claim to the land after so much time allotted under the Homestead Act. The simple fact that the Cartwrights owned the land wouldn't prevent a long, wrangling legal fight before the squatters could be evicted – usually at the end of a rifle.

If Mr. Abernathy decided he liked the cabin and the proximity of the creek, he could refuse to leave and try to claim the land as his. And although he would have no legal right, Adam knew he would be difficult to remove. And having a wife and small child, Adam worried his tendency to want to help others who had less than he, would be his undoing in the matter.

"I'll go wash at the creek and you make the dumplings. Then take it all home with you." She lowered her apron but her head was still bowed. Adam smiled and touched Mrs. Abernathy under her chin to raise her face but he didn't expect her to grasp his hand and look at him, her mouth open, wanting to say something. "Take all the food home, Mrs. Abernathy – I imagine your husband is hungry after having worked hard all day – you'll have a fine dinner for him," Adam said, and gently disentangled his hand. She just looked at him with tear-filled, blue eyes and Adam knew he couldn't stay in the cabin with her. He didn't want an emotional scene and have to provide comfort; it wouldn't go well. And he had far too much to lose.

He grabbed one of the two towels he had taken from the mine site, rough as sandpaper he always thought as he dried himself with one, and the bar of soap from by the sink. Adam knew Mrs. Abernathy was watching him, staring at his back while he looked through the stack of clean shirts and trousers on the chair by the wall, and pulled some out. He glanced at his shaving kit – if Mrs. Abernathy was gone when he returned, he'd shave. Otherwise, he'd visit Sigrid with full stubble on his cheeks.

"Well, I'll be off to wash. I'm going to see, well…" Adam grinned sheepishly. "I'm going home to my wife for a bit." He rolled his clothes and tucked them under an arm. He put his hat back on. "You best hurry home before dark," Adam said. "It's a long walk, especially carrying the babe and the food. You know, your husband should come get you." He paused waiting for a possible response but she just stared, her lips quivering. Adam turned and hurried out, grabbing Zeus' reins. He wasn't looking forward to standing up to his knees in the cold, swirling water as he washed the day's work and stink off himself. But it would make Sigrid's warmth all the more valued.

Adam stood shivering in the water, having ducked his head to wet it, and rubbed the soap bar over his hair. As he worked up the lather, he heard a noise behind him. He turned but all he saw was Zeus leisurely cropping the grass. He scanned the shores on both sides of the creek and couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. Quickly he went deeper into the creek and let the icy water swirl about him rinsing away the home-made soap. Once he stepped back on the shore, he saw a glistening at the edge of the water. Adam swept up the large stone in his palm and rinsed it off. He held it up in the dying light and it sparkled and shone like a star fallen from the sky.

Many a time he had tossed diamonds back into the creek, those that were too cooked by the heat and pressure of the earth to be beautiful. But this one – it was magnificent.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

Having washed down the cutting slab and hung the meat in the smokehouse, Mr. Goron took off the oil-cloth apron and scrubbed his lower arms and hands, plying the nail brush to make certain no dried blood or matter was under his nails. Weary, he sat down to smoke his pipe. It was a crisp evening and he had worked hard butchering the hog and looked forward to his dinner, already tasting the savory pork. He heard a horse coming at a light gallop and rose. He stepped out and saw Adam Cartwright riding up. Adam pulled up his horse and smiling at Mr. Goron, smoothly dismounted, his guitar slung across his back.

"Evenin', sir." Mr. Goron held his pipe and gave a slight nod.

"Evening." Adam glanced at the house, at the bright windows glowing in the early evening darkness. "My Missus to home?"

"That she is."

A cold breeze blew through the house from the open kitchen window and Sigrid went to close it. Since Adam had been gone, for Sigrid, this was the hardest time of day, the time when she had always expected him home from the mine. She knew once she moved past this time of day, the twilight time between day and night, her body wouldn't be alert to every sound and she could relax a touch. But as Sigrid reached for the window sash, she heard Adam's voice. Her pulse stepped up and she paused, barely breathing, listening.

"I've butchered a few steer – my father made each of us do it to teach us respect for the animals but hogs, I was never good at that – something about sliding a blade through all those layers of fatty flesh... But I laud you, Mr. Goron, on a job well-done. That's a nice array of cuts. They practically fill the smokehouse."

"Well, I thank you, sir, but I had a bit of help."

"Sigrid?"

"No, sir. The Abo woman who helps about here. She's good with a butcher knife, almost as good as I am. And she knew which parts she wanted. There wasn't much left after."

"Let's put off butchering the second hog for a while. I haven't used this smokehouse before and I'm not sure how long it'll take to cure all that meat."

"Yes, sir, I think that's a good idea. I held out a fresh cut of pork for supper tonight. Looking forward to the fruits of my labor."

"I've been smelling it the past mile. I'm mighty hungry."

"You stayin' for dinner then, I suppose?"

"That depends on the lady of the house – if she allows it. Maybe a bit longer should she be of a mind."

Sigrid heard the two men laugh and she pulled shut the window and went to the door. She stepped out onto the porch, pulling her wrap closer about her and waited. Adam was here and from what she had overheard, was wanting to stay – at least for a while. But she was certain he wanted more than a meal and hoped he had come for her.

Mr. Goron looked her way and Adam turned. Seeing her, he gingerly approached and pulled off his hat.

"It's good to look on you, Sigrid."

"It's nice to see you as well, Adam. What are you doing here? I didn't expect you as when I left you t'other morning, you seemed intent on staying away from me and our house."

"Oh, well, I've come to call on you, Sigrid, that is, if you'll allow it." Adam turned his hat about in his hands, smiling and waiting on her to answer him. She was lovely – more lovely each time he saw her but he knew if he said so, Sigrid would believe him insincere.

"Curiously, you've come in time for supper. Did Mrs. Abernathy not cook for you today?" Sigrid raised her chin; she wouldn't forgive him so easily nor forget the woman who had been tending to his needs.

He chuckled, looking down at his hands before he glanced up at her. "Actually, she did. Soup and dumplings but I told her she could take it all home to feed herself and her husband."

"Giving up your hot meal to visit; why a woman might think that's a sign of true love. Seems you're mighty sure I'll ask you in. I do have a big pork shoulder in the oven and a few roasting potatoes as well as tinned carrots I plan to empty in the roasting pan. I suppose I could dish out some for another person, that is if Mr. Goron doesn't mind not having as much should he want additional helpings."

Adam just ginned and Mr. Goron who was sitting and smoking, said loudly, "I think you should feed the hungry man. Looks as if he cleaned himself up right nice to call on you, Missus. And since I already roasted my prized bits of hog and eaten them, I won't be asking for more supper than you find seemly to serve me."

Sigrid stood above Adam and looked at her husband standing shyly in the yard. His hair was still damp and he had shaved and changed into clean clothes. And he smiled so sweetly. She felt herself soften toward him and suddenly knew she wanted him back inside the house with her and would try to have him stay.

"I see you brought your guitar along."

"If a man comes calling on a woman to speak of love, he should be prepared to sing a few songs to soften her heart toward him."

"Oh, is that why you're here? To speak of love."

Adam grinned. "Well, that and then there's that pork roast I've been smelling…"

Sigrid made a sound of disgust and turned to go inside, calling after her. "Make sure you wipe your feet."

Adam smiled at Mr. Goron who dropped his voice. "Shall I put away your horse for the night, then?"

"That, I don't yet know. Leave the bridle on and loosen the cinch. We may have to leave in a hurry if she comes after me with a fry pan; let's just hope I have my dungarees on if she does." And both men laughed.

~ 0 ~

Adam followed Sigrid in and looked around, taking off his trail coat. "You, know, as bad as this place looked to me when I first saw it, compared to that cabin, this seems as grand as the Ponderosa."

Sigrid glanced about. It was still not what she wanted, what she needed to in order to raise a child. And yet Mrs. Abernathy raised a child while living out of a wagon and she had no idea how or where Nama raised Taree. Was she holding herself too high? Perhaps either of those women would consider themselves lucky indeed with a solid roof, four walls and a new stove with a damper that worked.

"Supper will be in about fifteen minutes; you may as well wash up and sit for a bit. There's fresh coffee. I'll be making gravy."

"Can I wash here?" Adam asked coming into the kitchen behind her.

"I suppose." She waited while he rolled up his sleeves and then sluiced his lower arms and hands. He smiled at her while he dried his hands on a towel on the counter. "How about some gravy-making music?"

"Is there a difference between that and a waltz?"

Adam laughed and leaned toward her to kiss her cheek but held off. "I think you can waltz while stirring out the cornstarch lumps. Create a new step."

Sigrid started on the gravy and she listened while Adam strummed on his guitar and sang a song she had never heard before.

_I will give my love an apple without any core  
I will give my love a house without any door  
I will give my love a palace wherein he may be  
And he may unlock it without any key_

_My head is the apple without any core  
My mind is the house without any door  
My heart is the palace wherein he may be  
And he may unlock it without any key_

_I will give my love an apple without any core  
I will give my love a house without any door  
I will give my love a palace wherein he may be  
And he may unlock it without any key._

Sigrid wondered if the lines about a palace and unlocking it without a key, was an allusion to her locking Adam out of the house but she wasn't going to ask and perhaps start another argument that might end up with Adam storming out again and swearing he would never return to her. So, she just slowly poured the cornstarch and milk mixture in the greasy juices in the bottom of the roasting pan while the roast rested before she sliced it. She worked quickly with a fork, stirring the mixture before any lumps could form. Adam started another song and she found herself entranced by the lively tune and the humor of the lyrics.

_Come all you wild rovers  
And listen to me,  
I'll tell you a story,  
The advice it is free.  
Don't place your affections  
On each pretty smile,  
For when you are married  
It's for a long while._

_And when you are wedded  
You've got a new boss,  
Who'll dress you and mind you  
And pick out your hoss.  
So gather around boys  
We'll drink, it's my treat.  
Here's hoping our sweethearts  
And wives never meet._

Sigrid stepped out of the kitchen. "Adam, and I suppose you think that's funny. Where did you learn that?"

Adam laughed. "I learned that years ago on a cattle drive. Old Fergus, he was the cook then, well, he played the banjo and I played my guitar. We'd sit about the fire and sing songs after supper until the other drovers would tell us to shut up, they wanted to sleep. I learned quite a few songs from him – that was just one."

"Well, it's not much of a 'courting song', if that was your intent. But supper's ready. Sit down while I fix Mr. Goron's plate." Sigrid went back into the kitchen and pulled down plates from the shelf, followed by cups and saucers. She had the roast on the largest platter but she needed the serving plate for the potatoes and she thought about candles – they would have been a nice touch. And the linen napkins.

"Can I set the places for you?" Adam quietly asked.

She jumped slightly. "You surprised me. Yes, you can do that. The napkins and the silverware are still in that drawer in the chest. And would you put the roast on the table? You don't have to wait for me to carve – go ahead."

Sigrid busied herself but the thoughts of sweethearts and wives and Mrs. Abernathy wouldn't leave her mind. No matter what he did, Adam always seemed to upset her.

~0~

They barely spoke during the meal. Sigrid had said nothing, but Adam had talked about the mines, how the copper mine which was pit mining, was becoming too deep and too wide. The rainy season had washed a great deal of soil back into the pit and they were considering letting it become a part of the landscape. Caleb was excavating for a new vein of copper but the way things were going, the land was offering up all its riches and both he and Caleb held their breath for fear of finding gold.

At that, Sigrid looked up from her plate. "Why would you fear that?"

Adam looked across the table at her. "Because people kill over gold."

"Are you afraid Caleb would kill you over a gold mine?" Sigrid couldn't believe it was true and was relieved when Adam laughed.

"No, Sigrid, but with all the bushrangers riding about and probably even some of our own miners, well, there's a big difference between gold and silver and the way it comes out of the ground. There's just something about it, the shine, the heft, the feel – something – that makes men mad. It's not called "gold fever" for nothing."

"I don't understand." The mysterious ways of men was foreign to Sigrid, how they thought and what they wanted – other than a full belly and a woman on her back.

"Silver's attached to other rock, a base rock and that's why every so often, they'd find a small vein of silver in the copper mine, while gold isn't found that way. That's why a man can pan for gold and not silver as it washes free. If a miner wants to steal from an owner, he can't shove a silver nugget up his ass – if you'll excuse my being so blunt - but he can a gold nugget. It's pure 24 karat. Men do strange things for gold."

And then Adam had remembered and pulled something out of his vest pocket, placing it on the tablecloth in front of her.

"What do you think of that?" Adam waited, watching her.

Sigrid reached out for it and picked it up. "Is this a diamond?" she asked, barely speaking. It was larger than the one he had shown her in the cabin.

"That it is." He grinned at the look of awe on her face. "I'd guess it's about 6 carats cut, maybe a bit more."

Sigrid looked at him, still holding it. "But it's huge! It has to be bigger than that!"

Adam chuckled. "You lose about half of it through cutting – more depending on the cut."

"It certainly is beautiful," Sigrid said, holding it out to him.

"No. You keep it. Put it someplace…ordinary."

"Ordinary?" Sigrid's mind had been going over all the nooks in which she could secret it.

"Yes. Hide it in plain sight."

She looked about. The decorative teapot on the mantle. She walked over to the mantle and placed the diamond inside the teapot and looked at the mail, Adam's mail. She picked it up and took it over to him.

"In Barakula, I picked up the mail. It's all for you and the mine." Adam put down his coffee cup and opened the catalogue in which Sigrid had slipped the letters. Sitting back down, Sigrid saw his expression go flat as he looked at the top letter and held it in his hands. "It's from Mary Dawson. She must have gotten the address from your father." Sigrid tried to control her voice but it shook slightly as her heart thumped.

"Thank you." He put it back in the catalogue, closing it., and reached for his coffee cup. "Would you pour me a bit more. I'm tired of my own coffee; I've forgotten what good coffee tastes like."

Before she sat down, Sigrid poured the coffee and then sat, waiting. "Aren't you going to read the letter?"

"I will – just later."

Sigrid stood up and picked up her plate. "If you're through eating, I'll start the dishes." She walked over to his place but Adam stood up. "I'll help you."

"No. Sit down and have your coffee. And read your letter." She went into the kitchen and pumped water into the pot she used to heat it. Hot water. If Adam could just rig something up, a cistern as they had back home to produce hot water, it would make things so much easier. She scraped the plates into the bin to later toss the scraps into the pig pen. But her mind was churning – was Adam reading the letter and if he was, would he mention it? She glanced sideways and saw that he held the opened letter in his hands –and was reading.

"That was a mighty good meal, Sigrid." Adam ran the plate through the towel he held and when it was dry, stacked it on the other one he had just dried.

"Thank you." She said nothing more, just put a bowl into the sudsy water and set about washing it.

"That roast was tender and the potatoes with butter, delicious. I liked the tinned carrots."

They worked silently and Sigrid finally dried her hands. "Thank you for drying, Adam. Would you dump the water?"

"Yes." He picked up the tin basin and tossed the water out the back door. "I've been thinking, I need to set about building the new house for you. I've been looking at plans of indoor plumbing, how it would make life easier for you. In some cities now, they're hooking up a water system where…" He noticed her blank look. "Sorry. I just find the infrastructure of a city or town interesting and now, there are what they call septic tanks for houses, for water closets." Sigrid could see his excitement rise as it did whenever he discussed anything having to do with building houses and all the newest conveniences. "These tanks can take care of a house's human waste unlike an outhouse which has to be moved every so often.

"I've been reading about Joseph Mouras, a Frenchman, who built a concrete tank which he called a fosse septique, for his own home and used clay pipes from his house to the tank. I ordered a manual for building one. The most interesting part is that later, when Mouras took it apart, he found that everything more or less, had dissolved to just liquid…" He smiled and looked down. "I don't suppose any of this interests you but I find it fascinating."

"Adam, I know many things interest you that don't me. You're talking about indoor plumbing and septic tanks and I'm just carrying on each day, getting through the work of each day. It seems everything I deal with has the element of…waste, of stink, to it. Animals and their excrement. I walk into the barn and it stinks, the pig sty stinks, the chicken droppings are everywhere. I just don't want to talk about bodily functions and outhouses and…whatever a septic tank is. It's been a long day." She still felt as if her emotions were pulled tight. Here he stood before her talking about disposal of human waste when she wanted him to hold her, kiss her and make love to her.

"Of course. You go sit down. I'll dump the garbage in the pig pen and I suppose I'll be leaving then." Adam waited and Sigrid looked at him, afraid of saying the wrong thing. "Unless of course…you allow me to stay."

"Of course, you can stay. This is your home, Adam. You don't have to ask." She noticed Adam's arched eyebrow. "Despite what I said – you don't have to ask as if you were..." Sigrid dropped her head, wondering what to say next and suddenly, she felt Adam's lips on her cheek, giving her a quick kiss. She looked up to see his grin.

"I'll put my horse away. Hope Hera is as glad to see Zeus as I hope you are me."

~ 0 ~

Sigrid walked back in the parlor and saw Mary Dawson's letter on the table, still falling over unto itself like a collapsing house. The envelope lay beside it. She knew Adam would be a time in the barn and she could read it or at least scan it and see what Mary had written Adam, but she had gone so long without violating his privacy that she knew she should just walk away. But it was too tempting. She picked up the letter and read:

_Dear Adam, _

_Your father kindly shared the address with me and I hope my letter is welcome. But I do feel that I need to say the things that I would have told you had there been an occasion to do so._

_You once shared with me your desire to travel, to make your own way in the world, and I was not enthusiastic nor encouraging; for that, I am at fault. I can only suppose that is why you believed I would not go with you to a new land and share any hardships, but you never asked me. Had you, I would have answered with a resounding yes._

_Granted, you never spoke of love nor of marriage to me and we did not keep steady company, only the occasional picnic and dance as well as coming for dinner, but I saw no one else and was content. Had you pressed, my affection and respect for you were such that I would have gladly left all behind and become your wife. You cannot say you were unaware of my affection for you as I made it clear that I and my children welcomed you into our hearts. After you left for Australia, when they asked after you, I could only console them with the news that you had gone to another country on the other side of the world._

_I have to admit that I noticed you distanced yourself the last few weeks before you departed and I had wondered if something I had done or not done had caused it. I suppose I should have asked you at the time. Now, in hindsight, I see you were pulling away as apparently you had found another to marry and accompany you to Australia, Sigrid Eklund. I cannot say we are acquaintances, but I do wish you both happiness and health._

_There is nothing left for me to say except that we are all well. Life goes on and I am certain that eventually I will no longer find my thoughts going to you again and again. But for the time, I often think of you and wonder what could have been between us, about what happiness we could have possibly shared._

_Love always, _

_Mary_

"You could have read it – I was surprised you hadn't already opened it."

Sigrid turned quickly. She hadn't heard Adam come back in through the kitchen door. "Oh, I just…"

He walked over and she handed him the letter, blushing deeply. "It's all right, Sigrid. I suppose it was a bit like Pandora's Box, just sitting here, tempting you to open it."

"I didn't expect you back so quickly."

"Mr. Goron said he'd put Zeus away." Adam glanced at the letter again. "I didn't realize Mary felt the way she did. I should have told her I was marrying you, stopped by her place and told her, but I wanted to avoid a possible scene – so I behaved like a cad – used the exigency of time to excuse my behavior. But there's no excuse." He looked at Sigrid. "So now you know as well how Mary felt about me. One time you said that everyone knew about me and Mary Dawson and I was surprised to hear it. It's funny – seems everyone knew but me. So how does it feel to be married to a son-of-a-bitch?"

Sigrid's breath came in starts. "I don't think…you're too hard on yourself. You always are."

Adam crumpled the letter and tossed it into the flames of the fireplace.

"That's what I wanted to do," Sigrid said. Adam turned to look at her. "I wanted to read it and then to cover my tracks, burn it. After all, I told myself, that was in the past, Mary was in the past. But I couldn't."

"I think I wish you had." He rubbed the back of his neck. "This has thrown a damper over my homecoming, hasn't it?"

Sigrid looked at his back and suddenly she saw her husband as vulnerable. He was always so strong, taking care of everything and now…she had been so jealous of Mary Dawson, so jealous of the letter she found in the book, that she never really though how Adam had felt about the women who had written him. She went up behind him and put her arms about his waist, pressing her cheek against his back. Adam sighed and placed his hands on hers.

"I'm glad you're home, Adam. Really…I've missed you so much…"

He turned about and held her face in his hands. "Oh, Sigrid. I'm glad I'm home too." And he pulled her close to him, rejoicing in her welcoming embrace and the taste of her soft mouth.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to my readers who keep coming back to read the next posted chapter. I appreciate you. And to those who may be wondering how much longer this can go on - I don't know but I am trying not to extend it needlessly, it's just that these dang characters keep doing things!**

**Ten**

When Adam woke up, he could hear sounds from the bottom floor; Sigrid was in the kitchen. It was surprisingly warm in the loft – she must have the fireplace going and the stove fired up - but he still pulled the blankets up, turned on his side, and lay with his eyes closed. He smiled remembering the pleasures of the night before. How sweet it had been to take his wife. Intense pleasures of that type didn't happen often, but last night, Sigrid had been most willing, even eager, and so he had taken his time with her and was richly rewarded. Adam sighed in contentment; he considered himself lucky.

It wasn't often Adam allowed himself to lie-in but he felt lazy that morning. The men at the mine were probably sitting about, drinking coffee, joking and perhaps, even playing cards, the foreman not rousing the men to work until he arrived. But if that was so, Adam thought, let the men have a good rest under the sun before they started their descent into the dark mine.

There was something disturbing at the back of his head that kept pushing itself to the forefront, wanting to be recognized. Suddenly he knew -Mary Dawson's letter. Adam rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. He was sure that marriage with Mary wouldn't have worked out, that she would have become unhappy over time. And to house three children and two adults in this small place would cause no end of misery for him – and for her as well as the children.

Mary was a lovely woman but she had often pressed him to declare love for her. But Adam knew that wouldn't be right; he didn't love her. But he hadn't loved Sigrid either when he asked for her consent. And that was the crux of his personal dilemma. Had his father's argument been true after all? By laying with Sigrid, he had fallen in love with her just as his father said he would do with Mary Dawson. But over time, he had come to know Sigrid and watched her grow into a strong woman and into the position of wife and mistress of the house – and into his lover. She angered him often, had her own ideas about things, but her developing sexuality and desire for him grew to equal his own. He knew she was his full partner—not just in the mines and their property. And although they often started out diametrically opposed, they eventually met in the middle.

As for Mary Dawson, Adam came to know her better and better as time went on and he took her and her boys on picnics and the Carson City fair. She was a good mother, albeit lenient at times when he thought she ought to be otherwise. He enjoyed her boys and often wondered if he would make a good father, but he didn't grow fonder of Mary nor feel the heat of desire as he did when he saw Sigrid. Adam believed he made the right decision by not marrying her, but he hadn't thought she would be as hurt as much as she seemed to be in her letter. He sighed. Maybe the garnet ring he had given her for her birthday caused false hope to spring within her, but he hadn't asked for her hand nor said anything but to wish her a happy birthday and kiss her cheek. Garnets.

The thought of the gem drew his mind to the creek and the diamond he had found the day before. He needed to have it appraised, all the stones. He'd ask the assayer in Dalby; he should know someone who appraised gems. Maybe, Adam considered, he'd walk along the side of the creek for a mile or so and look for more sapphires. He wasn't a gem miner, had no desire to deal in them but the sapphires and few gem-quality diamonds were just waiting to be picked up – it would be an insult to fate to ignore them. He'd have to bring the stones in the chipped coffee cup here and put them somewhere safe but it would have to be in secret; he wouldn't endanger Sigrid. Maybe he'd place them in a leather sack and bury them in the garden.

Did Mrs. Abernathy know about his stash of stones? He wondered if she did, had seen them and told her husband. But he had the stones now up to two and three weeks and although he didn't check on them, count them out like a miser savoring his gold coins, they all seemed to be there. But even if she had pilfered a few, it made no difference to him; there were more. It was a shame though, that she had to live in the back of a small covered wagon with an infant and that husband of hers.

Mrs. Abernathy's situation also disturbed him. Last night, he had told Sigrid he would stay with her and she had kissed his face and raised his hand to her mouth, kissing it as well. Her action had moved him and he felt such a surge of emotion that he could barely speak. But now he would have to tell Mrs. Abernathy – she had told him her first name long ago but he couldn't remember it as he never called her anything but Mrs. Abernathy. She would be upset to lose the money and the warm cabin during the day. And her child, Nathan. Would their being put out of the cabin affect him? Children needed warmth and protection.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The child was problematic. And yet he knew it would be a mistake, a bad mistake to allow the Abernathys to live on his property. And yet, there was the woman and the child. Adam remembered how Mrs. Abernathy had grabbed his hand and looked up at him with sad eyes. It had upset him because his instinct almost drove him to pull her into an embrace and assure her he'd take care of it all. But that would have been dangerous. Besides, she wasn't his concern – not her or the child. Mrs. Abernathy was just hired help and that was the full extent of their relationship. Adam suddenly decided that he would buy the Abernathy land. It had been bought cheap and it was difficult land, full of crooked, half-dead trees and huge boulders that couldn't be easily moved elsewhere. If Abernathy had truly bought the tract for farming, for homesteading, he knew nothing about raising crops and the rich soil they needed.

When Adam had stopped by to offer Mrs. Abernathy an opportunity to make some extra money by housekeeping for him, he had noticed the holes dug about the property, the two horses staked out in the grassy area and the wagon where they lived. None of the holes had been there weeks ago when he had stopped by to introduce himself to the young couple. This time though, Len Abernathy wasn't very friendly and questioned Adam. "Just what you requirin' my wife to do?"

Adam noticed Len's eyes, how they were constantly moving as if he was always expecting an attack form somewhere. He wasn't a tall man, but he was barrel-chested with short, thick legs, his hair was a greasy light-brown. "Just a little laundry, general straightening up and to cook a bit of supper; she can leave some for me and bring the rest home to you. I'll pay her, of course. She'll only need to come three days a week or so."

Abernathy squinted at Adam who still sat his horse. "That's it – all of it?"

"All of it."

Mrs. Abernathy clutched at her husband's sleeve. "Len, the money'll help much. And I can cook the food there on a stove…you have a stove, don't you, Mr. Cartwright?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's not new, could use some black, but it works. I'll pay you…" Adam thought. He was going to offer two dollars a week but after seeing how Mrs. Abernathy had to live, his heart swelled with generosity. "How does 5 dollars a week sound?"

"Oh, Mr. Cartwright…" She was breathless with eagerness and took a step toward Adam, but her husband jerked her back to stand behind him.

"That's all she has to do? Laundry and cook? Not tend to your donger?"

Adam sat higher and resisted the urge to jump down and snatch up Mr. Abernathy by his collar, shake him like a dog does a rat, and tell him to shut his filthy mouth. But he felt that Len would only take it out on his wife. Instead, he coldly replied, "Just cook and clean. That's it."

Len Abernathy cocked his head to one side. "I thought you was a married man. How come you ain't livin' with your wife, havin' her to take care of your needs."

Adam took up his reins and his horse danced in place, knowing they were about to leave. "Either give your consent for your wife to work for me or don't. I won't explain myself to you."

Len thought, his lower lip pushed out. "All right. Five dollars a week."

The whole situation with the Abernathys upset Adam; but Caleb had warned him to avoid them – and if he wanted to avoid the whole situation altogether, he should apologize to Sigrid and move back with his wife. So, Adam sat on the side of the bed and wondered if Abernathy would sell the land. It wasn't more than five acres and he would offer a good price. Perhaps then, Abernathy would move his family into town, into a nice house. Life had again intruded on the soft glow that had surrounded him when he woke that morning, warm and sated and dizzy with love for Sigrid. And now he noticed the stiffness about his knees, his lower back and his shoulders and he rubbed the sorest one. He needed to dress and head to the mine but first, he wondered if he could convince Sigrid to climb back into the loft with him, to crawl under the bedding and enjoy one another before the workday started.

~ 0 ~

"Why don't you sit down to eat?"

"No, this is fine," Adam said, leaning back against the kitchen counter, his ankles crossed, while he ate his breakfast. "Pour me more coffee, would you?"

Adam had been unsuccessful in cajoling Sigrid back to the loft; she was deep into her day's chores, already having fed the chickens and milked Pansy and told him she couldn't afford to be a lay-about like him – she wasn't the boss of a mine who could keep banker's hours. And Adam put his arms about her waist from behind as she dished up his breakfast of eggs and leftover pork roast, and asked if she ever considered that perhaps bankers kept those hours so they could lay longer with their wives. Sigrid had gently pushed him away and handed him his plate of food.

It had been a busy morning. Mr. Goron had let Brutus out and called to Sigrid while she worked, that the Mister was to be asked about castrating the young bull as the older he became, the more difficult it would be – he was actually too old now and that unless Brutus was put in a stronger pen, he might wander off or take a fancy to Pansy. Sigrid said she would mention it to her husband. But so far that morning, she was waiting for the opening.

"So, what I was thinking," Adam said as he ate, "is to offer Len Abernathy a good price for his land – maybe twice as much. Last time I was there, I saw he had been digging holes. I think he wants to be a prospector but doesn't know how to go about it. For one thing, he bought the land having no idea if there was anything worthwhile on it. So, I'll go by their place this morning and tell Mrs. Abernathy she won't be needed anymore and if he's there, I'll make the offer."

Sigrid listened quietly.

"That would give him the means to move his family into a town and maybe get a house for them."

"That would be generous." Sigrid felt the creep of jealousy and wondered if Adam was thinking more of Mrs. Abernathy and her baby. But then she chastised herself; even if that was the reason, why shouldn't Adam think of them? He was hard-headed, arrogant and argumentative, but his heart was surprisingly tender. Often in Virginia City, she had heard people say that the Cartwrights always supported the underdog. Often it was said in respect of them and their money and how they came to the defense of the downtrodden. Other times, it was said with disgust.

Adam placed his plate on the counter and picked up his coffee cup to drink the last of it. "It's worth it just to get him out of this area. Like I said, there's something about the man I don't trust. Oh, and I wanted to ask you – notice, I'm asking if it's alright with you - if I go this Saturday to the Nivens' and buy some more Jerseys. Now that the fence is almost completed, we can take on more stock. I'd be gone most of the day."

Sigrid was silent, not wanting him gone but considered her position. Adam was asking, was making an effort although there had been a slightly sarcastic edge to the request but she attributed it to his unfamiliar position as supplicant. "Of course. More stock? Won't that take more men?"

"Yes." He kissed her cheek. "Maybe I'll be jealous if some young, handsome waddie comes working for us, afraid you'll be turning those lovely eyes his way and spreading those thighs."

"Well, if that happens, you'd never know it; I'd remake the bed." She tossed her head and turned back to the stove and jumped at the slight smack on her backside.

"On that note, I'll be off to the mine." He kissed the back of her neck and then went to get his hat and jacket and gun belt; although most of the men carried only rifles, Adam still carried both and it gave Sigrid a certain sense of security that he could defend himself.

Sigrid stepped out from the kitchen. "Oh, Adam, Mr. Goron wants to know about castrating Brutus – if he should."

Adam turned to look at her while he buckled on his gun belt. "Leave him intact. He's a good Jersey and will make a fine stud. Besides, if there's any emasculating to do, I think a woman would be best for that." He gave her a wide, toothy smile.

"Maybe I'll practice on you first using one of my kitchen knives," she said. "I wouldn't want to mess up on Brutus; he's far too valuable." Much to her frustration, Adam laughed as he walked out the door.

Sigrid huffed in impotent anger. He was infuriating. No matter what, Adam seemed impervious to her barbed comments. Words welled up inside her and her mind darted about for the right ones to say that would make her feel better. Blackguard or rogue or scoundrel, all those bad names she knew just wouldn't do. What might Adam say in such a situation? He hurled about quite a few curse words when he was angry or frustrated. "Son of a bitch!" she said to the closed door. "You son of a bitch!" And she was surprised with the sense of satisfaction saying the words gave her.

~ 0 ~

Mrs. Abernathy was tending the fire when Adam rode up. She stood up as soon as she heard the horse coming and when she recognized the rider, she smiled.

Adam tipped his hat and dismounted. "Mornin', Mrs. Abernathy."

She pulled her heavy wool shawl about her and answered, "Mornin'. I'm makin' a fresh pot of coffee. Will you stay and have a cup?" A campfire grill sat above the flames; that was how the meals were cooked. An iron tripod sat to the side, a Dutch oven hanging from a chain. It was no wonder she preferred the stove in the cabin.

"I can always drink a good cup of your coffee." Adam smiled but glanced about. "I've come to talk to your husband as well. Is he about?"

Len Abernathy came to the opening of the covered wagon and stuck his head out. "You want me?"

"Yes. I've come to see you with a business proposition." Adam waited while Len took his time climbing down, almost dropping to his knees when they buckled slightly.

Len smiled as he staggered over and when he was close, Adam could smell he was drunk, maybe from the same home brew Caleb occasionally bought from the Aborigines. "You said, 'as well'. What need you to say to my Muriel?"

"Here," Muriel said, handing Adam a tin cup of coffee, seeming ashamed of her husband. "Nice and hot." Adam smiled at her and Len looked back and forth between the two of them.

"State your business, Cartwright. My missus needs to tend to things about here instead of your needs."

Adam sipped the coffee; he wasn't going to let Len rush him. "That's good coffee. Thank you, Mrs. Abernathy." He had considered using her Christian name but decided that it wouldn't be wise. She smiled shyly and Adam turned his attention back to Len. Although it involved Muriel, she was Len's wife and he had a say in her business. "Unfortunately, I no longer need your missus to do laundry or cook; I've gone back to my house." Adam glanced at Muriel and saw she was upset, very upset. He feared she would cry. "I, of course, will pay for the rest of this week and a little something extra." Adam reached in his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He had intentionally taken most of the money out and tucked the coins and bills in his back pocket.

"I hope this will compensate for the money you would have made had I kept you on longer; you might have earmarked that money for a purchase." He handed fifteen dollars to her but Len snatched it out of Adam's hand and counted the bills. He folded them and tucked them in his shirt pocket. For all the care she had taken with Adam's laundry, Len wore a grimy shirt to match the palms of his hands.

Len turned to his wife. "Go to the wagon, wife. This is men's business."

"But, Len…"

"I said get in the wagon. And can't you hear that brat squallin?" She scuttled away and climbed into the wagon but Adam suspected she was listening with her child nursing at her breast. "You said you had business with me as well. What is it?" Len poured himself a cup of coffee.

"It seems," Adam said, looking about the tract of land. The Abernathys were living on the best part of the land from what Adam could see, "you aren't growing much in the way of crops."

"It's my land, I can do what I like with it."

"True. That also gives you the right to sell if it's unproductive and it looks as if it is – even if you're excavating, hoping for a strike. I notice that even more pits have been dug in just a few weeks."

"Like I said, my land."

"I understand that. But I'm prepared to pay you two times what you paid for it."

"You're just full of money, aren't you?" Len snarled.

"Yeah. It pours out of me like shit out a bull's ass. Just think about it, Abernathy. It would give you enough money to move your family into town, into a house perhaps. A baby needs a roof over its head and this land looks worthless." Adam tossed out the rest of his coffee and put the cup down by the fire.

"If it's so goddamn worthless, why do you want it?"

Adam mounted Zeus. "I don't want it in particular. I've just seen how your wife and child have to live. They deserve better and you have a responsibility to them."

Len threw his cup near Zeus' feet and the horse shied but Adam pulled tight the reins.

"I don't need some high and might rich bastard telling me how to treat my wife and child. But perhaps you have another reason to see to their comfort" Len smirked and Adam felt as if something was about to befall him. "My Muriel's with child again."

"What has that to do with me?" Len was like a stick of dynamite; it wouldn't take much to set him off.

"The first time you come by to graciously introduce yourself playin' noblesse oblige, was about two months ago or so. I saw the look you gave my Muriel, the look between you two – the same look passed this mornin'. I should've never let her go work for you. Men such as you, they think everyone should be at their beck and call, including other men's wives. And all those hours she was gone... Did you go to the cabin during the day and stick it in her?"

Adam's rage built up but he tamped it down as best he could. His voice was steady as he said, "You're one filthy-minded son of a bitch, Abernathy. If you choose to accept my offer, fine. If not, that's fine too. I only hope you drop dead while digging the next of those goddamn pits; it'll make it easier for Muriel to bury you."

Adam wheeled his horse about and rode off for the mine. If he was still in Virginia City and a bachelor, he would have beaten the man senseless for accusing him of such a thing and enjoyed doing it. But he had a wife now to worry about and it was best he remain a peaceful man.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

It was early Saturday morning, the sun not yet up, and sitting on the settee, Adam hit the sole of his boot and shook it. Both Adam and Sigrid knew to check the bedding before sliding between the sheets, and shake out their clothes before they dressed. Adam's boots always sat waiting by the front door under a long, narrow table on which lay his gun belt and saddlebags. God only knew what spiders and other insects climbed into boots and closets and drawers and therefore, necessitated confirming everything was free of a poisonous, possibly deadly, intruder.

There was the time a few months ago when a snake slithered out from under the stoked-up stove one early morning. Terrified at the slithering creature, Sigrid flattening herself against a cupboard and screamed for Adam who was still asleep. But at her horrified, desperate yell, he hurried down and when he saw the snake slowly winding toward his wife, he snatched it up by the tail and snapped its head against the wall as he would a bullwhip. He opened the back door and slung it into the yard.

"You all right?" Adam asked, concerned. "It didn't bite you or anything?" He waited but Sigrid started giggling and couldn't stop, putting one hand over her mouth. "What is it?" Adam couldn't decide if she was hysterical or not.

"It's just that…" She stared at Adam standing in front of her in the all-and-all and giggled even more. "I just can't help but wonder…" She tried to stop but the giggles threatened to explode again. "What if the snake had turned and bitten you…on your manhood?" She giggled again.

Adam looked at her and then, seemingly serious, even concerned over the possibility, said, "Well, you know how to handle a snake bite, don't you? You're supposed to suck out the poison."

Sigrid stopped laughing and saw that he was suppressing a smile. "That's not funny, Adam."

But he only laughed as he turned to go back to the loft to dress and start his day. And Sigrid was flustered; he always kept her off balance and often, it would take hours, even days, for her to think of a response to him. She was certain he would always have a reply to any remark she could toss his way. But then, she wouldn't have him be otherwise.

Sigrid stood by the table as Adam pulled on both his boots and then stood, stomping once to push his heel in all the way. "Now, if Niven sells me as many Jersey as I want, and hopefully, two more horses, it'll take a while to herd them home so don't worry if I'm later than you expect. Now come here and give me a kiss."

Sigrid went to him but before he could kiss her, she said, "Why don't you take someone along - like Caleb?"

"Caleb's working today; they're filling in the copper mine and stating a new pit about a half mile away. Besides, he's never been a cowhand."

"Then take Mr. Goron with you. He worked on a farm in Cornwall – his uncle's, I think he said. He probably didn't herd cattle but I'm sure he knows something. And he could ride Hera."

"No, no. I want him to stay here. Like I said, it'll take a while to herd the beeves here and I don't want you alone all day."

"But that's the reason why." Sigrid looked up at Adam and touched his lips with one finger. "If you take him with you, he can help herd the cows and you'll be home sooner. Then I won't be alone long. It's a good idea."

"No, I…"

Sigrid noticed Adam paused; it meant he was considering. It was one thing she noticed about him. Although he might give the impression of impulsiveness, he wasn't. He weighed options carefully. "With his help, you'll be home before dark and I can have a nice, hot dinner waiting for you." She waited.

"I suppose it's a good idea. But promise me you'll stay in the house with the doors locked."

"Adam, I'm not a child and I have chores about here. Milking and feeding the chickens and since you're taking Mr. Goron along, slopping the hogs and feeding Pansy and Brutus – if he hasn't done so already. And I want to go see Maddy. It's been quite a few days since I've seen her."

"Then Mr. Goron stays," Adam said, bending down to kiss her but she put up her hand between them.

"What do you mean? Why does he have to stay?"

"Because you'll be out and about and I want him to be here to see you're safe."

"All right, all right. I'll finish my chores and stay home – I won't go visit Maddy. I have that dress I'm working on anyway, and I might even read a book." Sigrid's mind went back to the book with the letter tucked inside. Somehow, she knew she wouldn't be able to open that book again and read the letter—it hurt far too much to think of another woman loving Adam so very much. And if he and "Jeanette" had been intimate… Sigrid couldn't bear to entertain such thoughts.

"You promise me," Adam said. "You'll stay home."

"Yes, I'll stay home. But chicken or pork? I could make chicken and dumplings or fix something from the smokehouse."

"Chicken and dumplings then, but only if you're sure you can behead it – just hold onto the legs if you do. Now, you be good, do as I ask and I'll take Mr. Goron along with me." He put his mouth close to hers. "Now, promise me." His lips barely touched hers, teasing her. She felt his breath warming her mouth. "Promise me."

"I promise…" Sigrid threw her arms about his neck while he wrapped his about her waist and she felt her insides stir as they kissed, as she always felt when he was even near her. "Come home to me safely," she whispered as he released her.

"Always," he smiled gently and putting on his hat and trail coat, threw his saddle bags over his shoulder to go saddle his horse and ask Mr. Goron for his help. And for Sigrid, when Adam walked out, it was as if the air and light that usually filled the house went with him and she took a deep, shivering breath.

~ 0 ~

Leaning down from the saddle, Adam kissed Sigrid goodbye once more as she had come outside to see both Adam and Mr. Goron off to the Niven's ranch.

"Now you two be sure and eat – that's why I packed the rest of the bread and some cheese," Sigrid said as Adam turned his horse.

"Yes, yes we will." Adam grinned. "We won't starve. Now don't worry so much. Besides, if Mrs. Nivens is still hospitable, she may ask us for dinner."

Sigrid stepped further toward Zeus. "No, don't accept. Eat what I've packed and come home sooner."

Adam pulled up his horse and looked at her narrowly. "Are you worried about something in particular?"

"No, of course not." She held herself against the cold wind. "I just prefer you at home rather than riding all over the countryside." She waited to see if he was going to doubt her.

"All right. See you in a few hours or so." He kicked his horse and he and Mr. Goron rode off. Sigrid stood and watched them until she could no longer see them. Then she stood a bit longer before going back into the house, locking the door behind her as Adam had always told her to do when she was alone for any reason.

She wanted to keep busy; time passed more quickly that way. Mr. Goron had already tended to the stock so she had collected eggs and fed the chickens while the men had saddled up. There were too many eggs and she decided to give a basket to Nama along with some milk for any of the children in her family. And now that the basic chores were finished, Sigrid was too anxious to sit and patiently sew and besides, she was having trouble with one sleeve. Twice, she had to rip out the stitches and redo it and her frustration with the new-fashioned sleeve style was mounting. Also, skirts were narrower among the fashionable so her old patterns wouldn't do, but Mr. Naples had promised that in another month or two, he might have some of the newer patterns.

One afternoon, Maddy had brought over a magazine of women's fashions. It was _Godey's Lady's Book_ and over tea and jam sandwiches, they discussed which dresses they liked, what styles of hats were outrageous and which would be most flattering. But their biggest discussion was about fabrics, did the mercantilist in Barakula carry what they could use on such a dress; he carried mostly dimity, muslin, batiste and cotton prints and solids; the taffeta was expensive and didn't sell well. There was also the trim, the lace and buttons that would be needed. And then the women lamented that even if they had the newest, most fashionable dress in the book, where on earth would they ever wear it?

With sewing out of consideration, Sigrid thought of knitting; Adam could always use more socks as he seemed to rub holes in the heels rapidly and although she darned them, he still ended up tossing them aside. She sighed. Maybe, she considered, she could bake bread. She already had enough butter, didn't need to churn more and had poured some of the cream in the pig mash, but – a thought came to her; since she had all the ingredients, Sigrid decided she would make Swedish Drömmar – the "dream" cookies Adam had liked so much. The last time she made them was before she left her father's house to marry Adam, but she had brought along the old cookbook of her mother's and although she couldn't read Swedish, long ago as she and Mrs. Hellström spent time in the kitchen, Sigrid had written in pencil the English translation of some of the words. When she pulled the cookbook off the shelf Adam had made for her, sudden longing for her family overwhelmed her. Was Adam worth leaving everything she knew and loved behind?

In the early months of their marriage, she had often wondered if her desire to change her life, to become an "adventuress", had been worth the price she paid. She had known she was inexperienced about many things, especially men, but she hadn't realized until life hit her full in the face, how naïve she actually had been. She hadn't loved Adam when the married and she knew he didn't love her but they managed to cohabitate with few disagreements. But now she did love Adam and sometimes she felt, it was more than she should. She lived for him in that when he left in the morning, she felt part of her went with him, and she didn't fully come to life until he was home.

"Stop," she told herself. "Stop thinking about things like that." Adam once accused her of ruminating over the past "like Pansy does her dinner." And then she feigned insult at being compared to a cow but she knew he was right. The past is the past – leave it there.

Having let the butter brown in a pan, Sigrid stirred the sugar in while she tried to remember where Adam had said he tasted the cookies before. Ah, yes – Hoss' mother. What was her name? Ingrid. No, Inger. She baked them. Joe's mother was named Marie. Adam had mentioned her once, had said that his father had adored Marie and that his life was almost destroyed by her loss. Adam as a boy of 13, hadn't really approved of the marriage – it had come out of nowhere, according to him and he saw it as a betrayal. After all, it was Inger who had saved both him and his father from loneliness and desolation and to think that she could so easily be replaced by another woman who lacked the warmth of Inger. One night as Sigrid lay in Adam's embrace, she had listened as he told her of his feelings about his father's marriages. He had wanted no comfort or consolation, just seemed to need to tell her. And neither Marie nor Inger or even his own mother were mentioned again after that. But Sigrid knew they were there always and each had caused a wound like an invisible stigmata on Adam's soul.

Sigrid mixed in the baker's ammonium, wrinkling her nose at the smell, the grated cardamom and the sifted flour and salt. Mrs. Hellström often placed a blanched almond on top of each cookie but Sigrid always preferred just the plain cookie. One time, Mrs. Hellström had made an almond paste and mixed it in the batter and it added a certain flavor that Sigrid did like. But she had no almonds anyway. She often had to do without many ingredients to make certain dishes but they always turned out flavorful. But Sigrid had the feeling that Adam would never complain about her cooking anyway.

The recipe made a bit over two dozen cookies depending on the size of the balls she rolled but she was now finished and they sat cooling. The sweet smell wafting from the kitchen calmed her and she looked at the mantle clock; it was only a bit before ten in the morning. But it was a beautiful day. She had left the kitchen window slightly open and the house was comfortable although she still needed the fire. Rising, she went to put more wood on the grate but except for a few thin pieces, the wood box was empty. Adam had meant to do it before he left but she knew she was the one responsible for his forgetting.

Sigrid pulled on a shawl and went out the back door to the stack of wood near the barn. She knew to be careful as spiders and even a few snakes liked hiding within the woodpile. A few times she had gasped and dropped a piece of wood because a dark, flat-bodied scorpion was hiding within. Now she kept a long, thick stick by the woodpile and dislodged the split logs with it before she picked them up and put them in the canvas sling to carry into the house.

She was almost to the kitchen door when she heard a voice call to her and turned. It was a man, shorter than Adam and powerfully built. A flat, well-worn pork pie hat sat on his dark-blond hair and he had stubble on his cheeks. Even from the distance of ten feet, she could smell alcohol and stale sweat; he reeked. Sigrid wondered how he had come so close without her knowing. His horse cropped grass on the far side of the yard. Had Zeus or Hera been there, they would have nickered to the animal and alerted her. Sigrid noticed there was no saddle, not even a blanket on the horse – just the reins which dropped to the ground.

"Do you be Mrs. Cartwright?" He looked at her and she saw his eyes slip away to see if anyone else was about. She knew immediately he was Abernathy.

She felt herself in the grip of fear and almost dropped her load of wood to run to the open kitchen door, slamming it shut behind her and throwing the bolt. But Abernathy would then know she was afraid and she wanted to appear brave. She had watched Adam the few times she had been with him in Barakula and some drunk or bully had tried to intimidate him. Sigrid decided to behave how Adam would toward such a man.

She pulled herself tall. "If you're looking for a job at the mines, go see Caleb Morgan at the copper mine. He's there now and I believe he's hiring. Now, excuse me." Sigrid started toward the door but Abernathy rushed to stand between her and the beckoning open door.

"Now, that's not very courteous. But I should have introduced myself so the fault is mine. I'm Len Abernathy and since you haven't said you aren't, you're Mrs. Cartwright. Now when your husband come to my place, my Muriel gave him a cup of coffee. If you have any fresh, I could use a cup."

Muriel. That was her name. "I don't have any on and I have work to do. As I said, see the mine if it's work you want. Now, excuse me." Sigrid stood waiting, her heart thumping violently. Abernathy didn't move and the load of wood was becoming heavy. She shifted the wood to her other hand.

He put out his hand and stepped closer. She backed off. "Now I can carry that for you, Mrs. Cartwright."

"No thank you. Now please go." Her knees felt as if they would give way and she wondered what would happen to her then. Adam had been right about Abernathy – he wasn't a man to trust.

"I have business with your husband. Is he about?" Abernathy looked about the cleared property. "Nice piece of land he has here. So, is he about?"

"He'll be back shortly. Come back tomorrow." Sigrid would tell Adam about Abernathy once he arrived home and she hoped that the story would end with Abernathy riding away without causing any harm. She put down the canvas sling.

"Your husband wants to buy my land. Did he tell you? Made me an offer. Said he'd pay me twice as much for what he calls my worthless grub stake. Bu if he thinks it's so goddamn worthless, why does he want it? That's what I've been studying on. You have an idea why?"

"No. I have no idea but I'm sure he has a good reason." Sigrid judged if she could slip around Abernathy and make it into the house, but each time he took a step toward her, she had to step back and was now further from the door by a good four feet. Her mind raced and she glanced about for anything she could use as a weapon.

"He said it was because he thought my Muriel and our child need a better home. But I think he feels guilty." Abernathy watched Sigrid, judging from her face that she was frightened of him – and that was what he wanted. "But I think his sudden concern is because my Muriel has a full belly again and I bet money it'll be born with the damnable dark looks and wavy black hair of your hubby. While I've been out breaking my back, I'm sure he's been visiting my Muriel and having her on her back, enjoyin' himself for months now; he always had his eye on her. Oh, yes, she's a pretty thing, a soft, comfortable woman." He moved closer to Sigrid, one step at a time. "And then – this is the clever part - he moved out of here to live with her almost full time, tending his house, so he says. And now he's through with her and expects me to just take the money and move on and raise his bastard brat as my own."

"Leave this place, Mr. Abernathy. Now." She knew the quaver in her voice contradicted any authority she hoped to project.

Abernathy laughed and stepped closer. Sigrid wondered if Abernathy would rape her, hoping to avenge himself on Adam for his imagined transgressions – or if he would kill her, strangle her or shoot her with the pistol tucked in his belt. But suddenly he stopped, his mouth dropped open, and Sigrid noticed Abernathy looking past her. At the edge of the tree line stood Kulan and another Aborigine man and they both held weapons. Kulan held a cruel spear with a metal tip and the other man held a large wooden, club that curved and ended in a large, round wooden head that looked as if it could crack a man's head like an egg. Neither wore the white man's clothes they usually did, faded dungarees and shirts, but their traditional bush wear. They both had thick white stripes smeared across their cheeks and silently stepped out of the trees and said nothing.

"Well," Abernathy said with a nervous laugh. "Looks like you got some company, some goddamn boongs. Unless you want me to shoot 'em, guess I'll be going." Abernathy, glancing back at the two stern Aborigines, headed to his horse. They took another step in his direction. Abernathy swung himself up onto his horse and turned its head toward his place. "You tell your husband I've come to accept his offer if we can agree on a price. If he's interested, he can come see me." Abernathy kicked his horse and left the property.

Sigrid dropped to the ground, her whole body shaking. "Thank you," she said to Kulan and the other man. "Thank you." But other than a subtle nod from Kulan, the two men said nothing, only stepped back to where they came and after Sigrid picked up the dropped wood with shaking hands, she turned and saw the men still stood in the trees, barely discernable among the shadows and foliage.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

Sigrid locked herself in the house for the rest of the day. She now had enough wood, having hurriedly brought in the dropped load, and except for killing a chicken for dinner, she had no reason to venture outside; Adam would have to be satisfied with bacon and eggs. She paced about the parlor, waiting for her fear to subside. Once her breathing settled, Sigrid decided she would busy herself making bread – it would help. Every so often, she would glance out the kitchen window. If Kulan and the other man were still there, she couldn't see them, and it appeared Abernathy had also left, at least she didn't see him or his horse.

As the bread baked, Sigrid rocked and knitted a new pair of socks for Adam; her mind spun as she mindlessly worked the thin knitting needles. Had it been luck that Kulan and his companion had been there? If not, why were they there? Were they always watching her? Sigrid doubted that as what would they gain by doing so? Had they been out hunting and seen Adam and Mr. Goron leave and decided to see that she was safe, to protect her from harm? That had to be the rational explanation although Sigrid always found the Aborigines' unspoken connection to each other and everything else eerie. Nama had once told her that her people were from the stars and all Aborigine were connected to one another, all were one family no matter where on the land they were and that they would return to the stars. And somehow, Sigrid believed Nama despite the way she was raised, despite her Catholic Catechism.

Then there was Abernathy. What should she tell Adam about him and what had happened? Should she say how she felt about it, or should she tell him without any emotional embellishment and let Adam come to his own conclusions? Perhaps she had even overreacted to Abernathy. Had Adam's past comments about Abernathy caused her to fear him without reason? But no, Kulan stepped out to protect her so they must have sensed he was a danger to her – or was it only because she had asked him to leave and Abernathy hadn't? Is that why they came forward out of the trees?

But there was Abernathy's sideways accusation about Muriel and her pregnancy. Should she ask Adam about it even though she was certain Abernathy was wrong. Wasn't he? Sigrid chastised herself. How could she even entertain such an idea about Adam? He was trustworthy but then, what did she know about him except that he was handsome and dashing and had the most wonderful hands and that his mouth could arouse feelings of desire and lust in her? But his reputation back in Nevada was that he had never found a single woman who could be everything to him. Oh, he had been serious about a few women…or so everyone had said, but she had just overheard the women gossiping in church. Although Adam had married her, it was almost a fluke, a mere toss of the coin. For all she knew, Adam had a roving eye and since not many women were about, his eyes may have landed on Muriel Abernathy with her full breasts and wide hips.

"Stop!" Sigrid told herself and dropped her hands and the knitting in her lap. Sometimes she wondered if living here in the wild, so far from civilization, had skewed her sense of events, her interpretation of things. Long ago, when she and Adam were staying with the Morgans, Maddy had said that everything in Australia will kill you. Sigrid had taken it to heart, especially since it was true. There were snakes and insects and scorpions and bushrangers. But one's mind and imagined jealousies were far more virulent than any creature that lived in darkness waiting to pounce. She sighed and placing her knitting back in the basket, Sigrid went to make a nice "cuppa", as Maddy called it. She decided to have a few of the dream cookies as well and wait for Adam to come home. Always waiting for him. But she reminded herself, he was coming home, not going off somewhere else.

It was almost dark and growing anxious, Sigrid sat and flipped through a book with drawings and illustrations of Australia; it was one of those that Adam had found in the crate. There were drawings of Aborigines and photographs that showed them in their rough shelters and another that showed a row of Aboriginal men with their hands and feet chained one to the other. There were pictures of various parts of Australia, the rain forest area in Queensland, the vast central desert and the grasslands as well as the coast lines where ports and their accompanying cities rose up. Odd creatures, including kangaroos, wallabies and koala bears had been photographed in the wild and also sketched by artists.

Earlier, Sigrid had lit all the lamps, the pendant lamp in the kitchen, the two wall sconces and the lamp on the side table by which Adam read as well as the floor lamp that sat near her so she could knit evenings. With all those lamps lit and the light from the fireplace, she could see all the corners of the house and yet she still felt an emptiness in the pit of her stomach. She whispered a small prayer to Saint Christopher for Adam's safe return and flipped another page of the book. As she sat, she heard a noise outside. She paused, barely breathing. There was the sound of horse hooves, cattle lowing and voices in the yard – Adam's voice. Slamming shut the book, she rushed to the kitchen window and looked out; he was home. She went out onto the porch and saw Adam and Mr. Goron were moving a few Jersey cows into the paddock next to the barn.

"We'll toss in a few bales of hay," Adam told Mr. Goron, "and stable and feed the horses for the night." Adam pulled off his gloves. "Let me see my wife and I'll be back to help." He turned and seeing Sigrid waiting for him, smiled. She met him halfway across the yard.

"I'm glad you're home." She smiled up at him and reaching up to hold his face, she kissed his mouth, his cheek, his chin, his throat. His skin was cold and although he had shaved that morning, his lower face and throat were already dark with the beginning of stubble, rough on her lips. She smiled up at him and he kissed her mouth, pulling her toward him.

He grinned, obviously excited with news. "Nivens sold me five more Jersey cows, three are bred, two are heifers that I'm hoping Brutus will take a liking to them – they are beauties with big, brown eyes. I hope your fingers will be limber enough to milk four cows this spring. And he also sold me three horses. Niven didn't want to sell more than one to me, but when his wife, who, lo-and-behold, is from Cornwall, discovered that her maiden name, Hobhouse, was the same as Mr. Goron's mother, well, that was the in I needed. Mrs. Niven insisted her husband sell me the three horses I wanted and that we stay for dinner. I know you didn't want us to but I couldn't say no. Otherwise we would have been home sooner. Hope you're not angry."

"No, I'm not angry." She kept touching him, unable to keep her hands off him, wanting to bask in his smile and the joy in his eyes. All that happened that day had been worth it just to see him so happy.

"You sure? You look as if something's upset you." His smile dropped away and he examined her face; something was off. "What is it?"

"Well, I couldn't kill a chicken so I hope bacon and eggs are all right. But I baked fresh bread and also made dream cookies. Remember those?" Sigrid found she was talking too quickly, wanting to avoid any more questions from him and unable to take her eyes from his face.

"Bacon and eggs are fine. Dream cookies, huh? You haven't made those since the night I asked you to marry me." He leaned closer to her, smiling gently.

"Oh, you remember," she said teasingly. With Adam home, all the fears of the day had practically vanished and she was happy again.

"How could I forget the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Do you mean me or the cookies?" She smiled, so very glad the warmth of his presence had returned.

Adam laughed and his breath frosted in the cold air. "I best not say. Now, let me help Mr. Goron and take care of Zeus and I'll be in. Get the skillet hot." Adam started to walk away but turned and quickly kissed Sigrid once again before heading toward the barn.

~ 0 ~

For the first time, Mr. Goron sat at dinner with them. Adam had invited him and as the men sat and ate, they discussed the good price they paid for the animals, especially the horses. Tomorrow, they would release the Jerseys into the pasture and Adam discussed the spring births of the calves and how he would look to hiring another hand to help with the births and the care of all the animals.

Mr. Goron added that they should add to the feed, make it richer so the cows could give more milk. "A mixture of hay, some grasses and perhaps some silage. That would help them produce quite a bit, far more than a calf would need."

"What am I to do with all that milk?" Sigrid asked. Already she had her hands full with skimming the thick layer of cream off the rich, frothy milk, holding some out for their coffee and tea and churning the rest. She would spend a good two hours or more each morning doing so. Often the butter began to turn rancid before they used it all. And even though she slipped a clean silver coin in the milk canister, they didn't use it up in time either. Once when she had complained about wasting all the milk despite giving a jug to Nama, Adam had said they needed children about the place to drink up the milk – or a basketful of kittens. Sigrid didn't complain after that.

"I asked Mrs. Niven the same thing, how she managed all the milk that wasn't sold, and she said she makes her own cheese, said it was easy. Also, sour cream and…what was that other thing she said?" Adam asked Mr. Goron.

"Quark." Mr. Goron tore off another piece of bread and wiped up all remnants of egg yolk on his plate.

"Quark?" Sigrid asked. Just the name sounded distasteful to her.

"It's made from soured milk," Adam explained, "so if you think the milk is going bad, you can make quark. She told me how she made it but I don't remember. Maybe you can ask Maddy or find a recipe somewhere."

"Adam, you're going to have me in the kitchen constantly. Nama isn't here enough to help me with all that and I can't…"

Adam put his hand out and took hers. "Listen, I was thinking about all that on the ride home. I told you about offering to buy Abernathy's place and what he said. So, since he won't sell, maybe Mrs. Abernathy could come help you and take some of the cheese, milk, whatever is excess, with her. And I know they could use the money and with our paying her here, her husband can't take all the money from her." Adam waited, thinking Sigrid would be delighted, but her face froze and she was silent. Even Mr. Goron stopped eating, looking between husband and wife. "We can talk about that later though," Adam said.

She was silent while Mr. Goron and Adam talked about what needed being done as far as fences and any repairs about the place. When they finished eating, Sigrid cleared the table and brought in the coffee pot and a plate of the dream cookies and sat while Adam and Mr. Goron helped themselves and discussed how good the beefsteaks had been that Mrs. Niven served them.

"We had some mighty tender beef on the Ponderosa but that Jersey beef practically melted in my mouth," Adam said, biting into one of the cookies.

"That it did. Savory and tasty and not too much fat – marbled perfectly," Mr. Goron said. "And may I say, Mrs. Cartwright, these are delicious cookies although I am fond of your berry pies. Thank you." Sigrid smiled and nodded but said nothing.

Finally, Mr. Goron sat back and placed one hand on his stomach. "I am full – nearways close to popping. I believe I need to go out and smoke my pipe a bit before I turn in." He stood up and so did Adam. "Mrs. Cartwright, that was a mighty fine supper. I appreciate you having me at your table."

"It was a pleasure to have you but it was just bacon and eggs."

"It is the warmth of your person that made the meal taste so wonderfully tasty. I'll be saying goodnight to you both and then sit and smoke outside while my stove warms my room. Goodnight to you both."

Sigrid rose and while Adam walked Mr. Goron to the door, she stacked the tea cups and saucers, taking them to the kitchen and scraping the plates. Putting the water on to boil for washing, she stood and looked out the kitchen window. It was completely dark by now and she quickly pulled the curtains, wondering if Abernathy was skulking about in the dark, watching her.

"What's the matter?" Adam quietly asked.

Sigrid gasped, her hand to her bosom as she turned. "You scared me. Did you lock the door?"

"Yes, I locked it but what's bothering you? Did you mind me asking Mr. Goron to join us?"

"No, no. It's just that it's been a long day, Adam, and I still have more to do. Why don't you wash up for the night and play your guitar or something while I tend to the dishes?"

He still stood, one hand on the counter and noticed she wouldn't look at him. "Are you angry that I suggested hiring Mrs. Abernathy or did something else happen today?"

She pushed loose strands of hair off her forehead, tucking them behind her ears. "I had to get wood – you hadn't brought in any as you said you would…"

"I'm sorry – I forgot about the wood. Is that why you're upset? It wasn't intentional – I just forgot. I'll go get some more if you want."

Sigrid stared at the kitchen curtains, noticing the pattern of flowers on them, how the blue blossoms leaned toward the left while the yellow ones seemed to randomly dance in various directions. "No, it's not that, but that's why I had to go outside." She paused. "When I did, Abernathy was there. He must have been waiting for me – or you – I don't know." Sigrid felt more than saw, Adam becoming upset. He stood straight and moved closer.

"Did he do anything to you? Tell me."

"He…only frightened me. He said he wanted to talk to you about selling his land and for you to see him on the property to arrange a price, but he wouldn't leave when I told him to. He just – he wanted a cup of coffee and then to help me by carrying in the wood. I told him to leave again and then Kulan and another Aborigine stepped out of the trees and he left. But before he left, I mean while he was talking about why you might want his land, he said things about you and…his suspicions about…"

"About me and his wife and her pregnancy. He suggested it was my child."

Sigrid looked at Adam. He was so handsome, so vital, that she could understand if Mrs. Abernathy had wanted him – just a bit of him – and offered her body up to please him, yearning to feel his firm grip on her hips and the heat of his body as he pressed himself on her. How could she herself have lived in Virginia City for so long, have Adam so close and not have felt his undeniable pull on women including herself? "Yes." She could barely speak.

"Do you believe him?" Adam waited and Sigrid said nothing – she couldn't. "Do you believe him?" He asked again, firmer and more demanding.

Sigrid wanted Adam to deny it, to say it wasn't so, it was all a lie by a jealous husband, but instead, he was asking her if she believed Abernathy's words, if she had enough faith in him to disbelieve it without his averring it was a lie. She fell against him, putting her arms about him and said, "No, no I don't. I don't believe it." She felt his shivering sigh and his arms wrapping about her while he kissed her hair.

"Good, because it's not true," he murmured.

They stood so for quite a while, their arms about one another, while the pot of hot water simmered on the stove, slowly heating to a boil.

~ 0 ~

Pulling her woolen wrap about her, Sigrid went into the kitchen for a drink and to turn out the downstairs lamps she had lit while waiting for Adam. "Oh, the water!" she said to herself when she saw it on the stove. The pot of water she had placed there for hot dishwater was almost completely gone; less than an inch was left. It had obviously boiled away while she and Adam had been in the loft. She looked about the kitchen. The rinsed dishes sat on the counter and the pan with the few bits of food she had scrapped off the plates still sat there. The bread was thankfully, back in the bread box and the grease from the bacon had congealed in the pan. All the food would attract insects, particularly ants, if they sat all night but she was hesitant to dump it all in the pig sty. After all, the sty was a distance from the house to keep the smell away. But she could put it all in one pan and sit it outside the kitchen door. She didn't want to wake Adam to do it, so she unlocked the back door and quickly placed the pan of scraps and grease on the ground, then slammed it shut, turned the key and threw the bolt, breathing a sigh of relief.

Sigrid rubbed her arms to warm herself and once in the parlor, tossed some slivers of wood on the embers and poked them to stir up the flames. Then she placed larger pieces on the nascent fire and stepped back to enjoy the heat. She walked about the room, lowering the wicks on all the lamps. Sitting on the settee, tucking her bare feet beneath her, Sigrid drew her wrap closer about her and sat staring into the flames. She needed to go over all Adam had said and sort out her inner turmoil regarding Adam and Muriel Abernathy. Sigrid believed Adam, that he had nothing to do with Mrs. Abernathy except for hiring her as a housekeeper, but niggling doubt still disturbed her – and Sigrid hated it. It kept her from resting easily in her husband's arms.

While they had lain together earlier that night and Adam had hotly kissed her, readied her with his hands and words of love, encouraging her in her rising desire, Sigrid had thought of nothing but him. And afterwards, as she lay in his arms, she was content and happy; all the day's struggles had disappeared like an early morning mist. But then Adam asked her again about Abernathy and she felt a prickle at the nape of her neck.

"Why are you asking me again about him?"

"Because I want to know if you told me all of it? Did he hurt you or threaten to hurt you?"

She sat up, holding the sheet against her to cover her breasts. "What are you thinking, Adam?" Her heart began to beat faster. She knew him well enough to know he was considering some action against Abernathy – he just needed a reason.

"I want him away from here. I'm going to offer him more money than he can refuse."

"And if he does refuse?"

"I may just have to force him to leave. I've dealt with bad neighbors before, living on the Ponderosa; sometimes a compromise can be reached but sometimes, not. But this is not about land, it's about the type of man Abernathy is. Sigrid, I had mentioned hiring Mrs. Abernathy to help you about the house. She needs away from him."

"What business are they of ours, especially her?" Sigrid's voice became cold.

Adam looked at her in surprise. "Because she's a person, Sigrid, and. she's stuck in a marriage with a brute who, from the bruises I've seen on her, beats her. I can't just look the other way."

She examined Adam's face, the kindness and humanity in it, but as far as Sigrid was concerned, the Abernathys were not their business in the least; it was Adam employing Muriel Abernathy as a kindness for a struggling family, that had brought all this about. "If Len Abernathy wants to beat his wife and she does nothing on her own to escape him, let them alone in their twisted relationship."

Adam sat up to face her. "I can't believe you feel that way. Where's your compassion for her – you as a married woman? You said you didn't want to raise a child in this house, as small as it was, and brought up the lack of medical care about here and I understood, never questioned your decision. Now imagine raising a child in a cramped, freezing cold wagon and giving birth to another child there with only that husband of hers about to help. And as for his beating her, there's no law about here to arrest him. Who can she go to for help and where would she go if she did leave him, a pregnant woman with a baby? Where's she to run on foot?"

Sigrid averted her head; she needed to avoid Adam's gaze. "I don't know. It's just that you seem overly concerned about her and…"

Adam reached out and cupped Sigrid's chin, turning her face to him. "I told you, she and I have no other relationship beyond her cooking and cleaning for me at the cabin. That's it. If it were you married to Abernathy, I'd do the same thing for you. You're just goddamn lucky that I've never been tempted to give you the back of my hand. I won't defend myself anymore, Sigrid, you either believe me about Mrs. Abernathy or you don't, and right now, I don't much give a damn what you believe." Adam lay down and turning his back to her, pulled up the covers to his chin and soon fell asleep. Sigrid lay back down as well, staring out the window on her side of the bed. The moon was bright and the skies were clear so the stars shone as well. All the aspects of nature were so grand, so magnificent that her problems felt small by comparison – just petty jealousy, but unable to sleep, she remembered all the lights downstairs were still on and decided to go downstairs.

She sat in the dark parlor, the only light now from the flames in the fireplace and buried her face in her hands. What type of woman was she? How could she not feel sorry for the manner in which Muriel Abernathy had to live? She wondered how she would feel if a man like Abernathy, a man with stale breath and grimy hands tried to fondle her breasts or slip a filthy finger up her. Did Muriel allow such things or did she even have a choice?

Raising her head, Sigrid thought back to the night Adam had asked her to marry him, how he was so clean and fresh with pared nails and strong hands. He had smelled of the wind and sun and like the fresh breeze that whipped about during the fall carrying a mixture of pine and sweet grass and all outdoors. Her pulse had stepped up at his proximity. He was bold and rough-hewn; the air practically crackled about him. And then, outside, he had talked of the stars and constellations and she hadn't understood – she was so foolish, and so ridiculously confident in herself at accepting his proposal – or business proposition. And despite all he had done in his life, Adam appeared young and even boyish at times and she had been won over so easily, just as she still was by a kiss or a caress or a suggestion of carnality whispered in her ear.

Sighing, she glanced up at the floor of the loft where Adam lay sleeping. Standing up, she shrugged off the wrap and walked over to the laddered stairs and climbed up to the loft where she gently crawled over a sleeping Adam to her side of the bed. She worked her way under the covers and then pushed up against the warmth of her husband's body, determined to be more supportive of him and suppress her jealousy of Muriel Abernathy. She would be more compassionate and trusting as well – or appear to be.

In the morning, Adam came in with an armload of wood and from upstairs, Sigrid could hear the clatter when he dumped the load into the wood box. Now awake, Sigrid dressed quickly and went downstairs. The house was warm, the kitchen stove hot, the coffee made, and Adam was outside checking on the new stock. Mr. Goron, smoking his pipe, was with him. Sigrid had stepped out the kitchen door and watched as Adam ran his hands over each cow's abdomen, checking for fetal movement. Then the men would talk to one another.

Sigrid walked toward the men and called out, "Breakfast will be soon; be sure to wash up." They looked at her and Mr. Goron raised his pipe while Adam only glanced her way and then continued to talk to Mr. Goron who glanced back at her; he must have noticed Adam's lack of response. Sigrid's heart fell. Adam must still be disappointed in her.

She would make pancakes. Adam liked them and so did Mr. Goron, so she quickly put on the water and sugar mixture for syrup. When it thickened, she would stir in vanilla extract. She worked quickly as Adam would soon be in and she wanted to have breakfast ready or near ready, when he did.

When Adam did come in, he stepped inside the kitchen. "I invited Mr. Goron for breakfast but he declined, saying that solitary dining agreed with him; it gives him time to plan his day. But he thanked me."

"Well, he does seem to like being alone." She swirled the sugar mixture in the pan to test the consistency and satisfied with it, took the pan off the stove, placing it on a folded towel. "I'll take his breakfast out to him. I know how he likes his pancakes although he once said something about mine being a bit thick. He said where he's from, they make them thinner and often spread them with jam and roll them up as treats so now I spread some of my preserves on his."

"That sounds good; I'll have to try them that way sometime." Adam stepped closer to her. "I need to buy some alfalfa soon; the cows need silage so I'll have to go to the feedstore in Barakula. I'd like for you to come along, maybe Thursday."

"I'd like to go and look at dress patterns but I don't want to be a bother." She ladled batter onto the hot skillet and it sizzled in the hot lard.

"You're not a bother, you know that. And I want to…"

Without looking at him, Sigrid said, "Adam, I'm in the middle of making breakfast; can we talk later?"

"Whatever you say." Adam turned and Sigrid heard his bootheels hitting the wood floor as he walked away.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

The sun was beginning to burn off the morning haze and warm the air when Sigrid took Mr. Goron his breakfast. He thanked her and sat down on his usual bench to eat. She had served Adam first and Sigrid knew he was sitting alone at their table, but she was too ashamed about her childish behavior to face him. Sigrid walked over to the paddock and gazed at the new cattle purchase as the animals pulled hunks of hay out of the loosened bales.

"I think I'm finally beginning to appreciate cows, in a manner, that is," Sigrid said. "They really are pretty creatures – a bit ungainly though."

Mr. Goron chuckled. He was close to making a coarse joke about farm boys finding first "loves" among the heifers but such earthy jokes were unfit for ladies. Now, the mister, he would find the humor in such a comment. "They are lovely beasties. Give a farmer a cow and his children can eat well off the milk, butter and cheese.

"But as for eating well, these pancakes are mighty fine. My mother, the blessed woman she was, she made oatcakes. I hear that buckwheat can be used for food as well but that it's an acquired taste. As for me, it's only good as fodder for cows. I may suggest your mister grow some perhaps, maybe a bit of alfalfa as well, that is if this climate's suited."

Sigrid wrapped her arms about herself, shivering in the cold air, and smiled at Mr. Goron. "Yes, perhaps you should suggest it. Well, enjoy your breakfast." He thanked her and she walked into the house by the kitchen door and into the large room where Adam sat finishing his pancakes.

"Have you eaten, Sigrid?" He looked up at her.

"Oh, I will. I haven't a taste for pancakes this morning. Are they all right?"

"Yes. Best I've had – nice and fluffy."

"Good. I'll go start the water for the dishes."

The sound of his chair pushed back made her stop. He held his napkin in one hand and stood up.

"Come and sit down with me. Have a cup of coffee at least." He waited.

"Well, I… I suppose the chores can wait a minute. I'll fetch a cup." She opened the cupboard and saw the small earthenware jar of seeds. She hadn't yet taken one after last night. Sigrid wondered how she could have come into the kitchen and quickly gotten rid of the leftover food and not have remembered. Then she noticed the pan in which she had placed the scraps was sitting on the far counter, empty. Adam had brought it in, had emptied it, rinsed it and placed it inside for her. Although Sigrid was well aware that Adam wasn't one to tell her that he loved her – actually, she felt she could count the times on one hand he had said it and have the thumb left over – he showed his love by doing things for her, by working hard to make her life better. That was his way.

"Sigrid?"

"Just a moment." She took down the jar and shook a seed into her hand, staring at it. For months now, she had chewed one every morning but of late, she had considered not taking it. But she didn't quite understand why. She chewed it quickly and took her coffee cup out to the table where the coffee pot sat. She poured herself coffee and a dollop of cream and sipped in silence. She wondered if she should speak first, but no sooner had she taken a breath in preparation that Adam spoke.

"Sigrid, I want to apologize for the things I said last night. I don't know why I was so angry – it was just that you seemed to doubt my word."

"No, no, no, Adam," Sigrid interrupted, "you don't have to apologize. Oh, Adam, it was me and my petty jealousies."

"Let me speak," Adam said. "My father, through his deeds, not so much through words. Taught my brothers and me to always help anyone who needed it. There was a woman whose husband beat her when he was drunk. She came running to our house one night, her face a bloody mess and dragging her three children with her. My father took them in – the two boys and Hoss had to sleep with me while the girl slept in Hoss' trundle bed. My father gave her money to go to her parents and told her it wasn't a loan but a gift. And there was a homesteader he gave a few acres to – actually, there were a few. He was always giving, or practically giving cattle for starter herds and loaning money to people when the bank wouldn't. He lost some of the money but he said that since we had so much, it was God's work he was doing with it. And sometimes it paid off. He won Joe's mother by defending her honor and clearing her tarnished name.

"One of my first memories was while we were traveling across country. We stayed for a bit to help a farmer – I guess it was to get in his crops before the weather changed or something like that. I remember it was a huge house and had a red barn and cows and pigs. I liked to watch the piglets. I can't remember the people's name but they had no children and the wife, she spoiled me, you know, loved on me the way mothers do. I must have been about three, but I still remember the woman giving me mugs of warm milk and little cookies in the evenings while my father and the farmer smoked their pipes in front of the fire. I'd sit on her lap and she'd sing to me, stroking my hair before putting me to bed. And that was the last time anything like that happened, anyone treated me that way. By the time my father married Hoss' mother, I was too old for that type of thing, at least in my opinion. We stayed with the farmer and his wife for a few weeks and I remember I didn't want to leave. I cried and so did she." Adam seemed lost in the mist of reverie but suddenly came back to the present, and said, "I don't know why I started talking about that – silly of me."

"No, it's not silly," Sigrid said. "I enjoy hearing about you when you were small."

"It's foolish and has nothing to do with my point, but it's things like that, helping the farmer, and the way my father always said if you can help someone, you should, that I just can't turn my back on people who need help – not anyone. But this thing with the Abernathys – it's not a noble cause. I've done quite a bit of thinking about them and you were right, Sigrid, it's not our business and even if I think Mrs. Abernathy would be better off without her husband, she may love him and want to stay with him. I mean, he is the father of her child, of her children, and even if I think he's a lout and a brute, no one should come between a husband and wife. And by offering her a job here, that may be what we'd be doing, separating them. And it wouldn't solve the problem of Len Abernathy either. Actually, it might cause more of a problem. He may feel he can drop over here and see her while she works and I don't want him anywhere near you or this place."

"Adam, I don't know if Abernathy meant it when he said he'd sell to you, but if he did, it would solve the problem of him as a neighbor."

"Or he could take the money and buy a larger piece of property closer." Adam poured himself more coffee. "It's unsettling."

"I wish you'd offer him the money anyway. He may move closer but he'll probably go drink away half of what you give him and then he wouldn't have the means to buy more property."

Adam looked at Sigrid with curiosity. She made a good partner when it came to testing ideas – he should have realized it sooner. "So, you think I should ride over and buy his property – that is if we can agree on a price."

"Yes. But I also," Sigrid looked into her coffee cup, "I don't want you to lose your temper. Remember, he only frightened me yesterday – he never laid a hand on me. Don't go in with a grudge. It'll solve nothing." She looked up and Adam was watching her.

"All right. I'll talk to him, see what his price is. But if we can't agree, I won't buy and he can continue to dig those holes all over that miserable piece of land." Adam pushed back his chair and went to put on his gun belt. Sigrid hurried to stand beside him. He stopped and looking at her said, "You need to know – I buried the sapphires and diamonds." He chuckled slightly. "Like playing buried treasure as a kid."

"You did? Why?"

"I just felt maybe Len had been to the cabin and seen them, wanted them for himself. He may even have some he's found on his own, even though the creek isn't near his property. I don't think the technicalities of trespassing would stop him. I wasn't going to tell you in case someone, Abernathy in particular, asked you where the stones were – you could say no and sound credible. But they're buried at the far east corner of the barn. There are two diamonds in the group and you can get a good price for them." He continued adjusting the belt and tying the leather thong about his thigh.

"Why are you telling me this? Adam, do you think Abernathy might kill you?"

He took her by the arms and smiled gently. "I don't think anything like that. I just want you to know where they are. Now, be a good girl and stop worrying. I'll come right back. If there were a church nearby, I'd tell you to put on your best frock and bonnet and I'd squire you off to services but there isn't, so read a few scriptures, say a few prayers and I'll be home before you can say amen."

~ 0 ~

Adam paused, looking about before he rode into the opening where the Abernathy wagon sat. The various holes were still open, the dirt piled about the edges of each one. But only one thin horse was staked out; the other horse was gone. The only sign anyone was about was the dying campfire a few feet before the wagon. A small pile of dry brush and branches lay beside it to feed it but it was a cold morning and it was understandable how someone might prefer to sit bundled inside the wagon than out here feeding the dying flames. Adam's horse tossed its head and nickered low. The other horse raised its head and responded. Adam urged his horse into the opening.

"Hello, the wagon." He sat his horse and waited, one hand resting on his gun handle. Muriel Abernathy peeked out, pushing aside the blanket covering the opening and upon seeing Adam, climbed out. A quick intake of breath came from him when he saw Muriel's left eye was swollen shut and her bottom lip was partially split. Her left jaw was bruised. "For God's sake…" Adam said to himself, and dismounted his horse.

"Oh, Mr. Cartwright. I'm glad it's only you." She wrung her hands and glanced about worriedly

"I assume Len did that to you, to your face." He motioned toward her and Muriel Abernathy dropped her head; it was obvious she was ashamed for Len.

"He was drinking. When he's in his cups, he gets mean. He…I'm ashamed to tell you this, but he came to the cabin a few times while I was there to warm up and such, and, well, I had seen the stones in the coffee cup where you kept them. I showed them to him, asking what they were and I never should've. I had no mind to pinch any, Mr. Cartwright – honest! It just seemed odd to me that if the stones or such were of any value, you would keep them in a coffee cup. Len held some up to the light and said they were valuable gems and he nicked a few, just put them in his shirt pocket. I told him to put them back but he just cuffed me and said to keep my mouth shut, so I'm ashamed to say I did.

"Well, last evening he left sayin' he was going to sell them to a man he knew – he didn't say where he knew him or who he was or anything so I kept asking when he'd be back and he shoved me aside. I made up my mind then to stop him, called him a thief and such and that's when he beat me, said I complained when there wasn't enough money and then when he was going to get some, I tried to stop him. I always felt thieving was bad, especially from someone who's been kind to you, and you were always kind, Mr. Cartwright. Anyway, I'm so sorry…" She began to cry and suddenly Adam knew why that morning he had thought about the farm wife of so long ago, the one who had cuddled him and loved on him when he was just a child – Mrs. Abernathy reminded him of her with her soft, comfortable body and the sadness she wrapped about herself like a shawl.

"I don't know what I'm going to do?" she continued, through her tears. "There's no food in the place – nothing but a cold chicken carcass which Len also pinched from somewhere, maybe from you even – I hope there's enough marrow left so's I can boil it for a soup of sorts. But my Nathan, he's been crying and sounding starnge – an odd cough and having trouble breathing. I think he's dying, Mr. Cartwright. My baby is…" She broke down anew. "I don't want to lose my child."

Adam thought about the small grave he tended, the burial site of the Flynn infant and he saw what had to be done. Although there might be hell to pay with Sigrid, an ill child close to death was more than he could bear. "Wrap Nathan up nice and warm. Pack some clothes for the two of you and anything else you'll need, and I'll take both of you back to my house. Maybe we can help Nathan."

"Oh, I can't ask your wife to take us in." Muriel looked at Adam who was so sure of what should come next. She wiped the tears from her cheeks but she had passed a fearful night in the cold wagon with a child who struggled for air and all she could do was hold him and try to calm him as he coughed too much even to nurse.

"Just go and get him and your things. I know Sigrid would insist on you coming back with me." Adam tried to smile and Mrs. Abernathy hurried to the wagon while Adam kicked dirt over the fire and went to get the other horse. After a few minutes, she tossed two large canvas sacks out of the wagon that were filled mainly with clothes. Adam put them by his horse. Then Muriel Abernathy carefully climbed out of the wagon, holding her child tightly against her bosom.

"Get on my horse and I'll hand up Nathan." Adam took the boy and looked down at him while Muriel struggled to raise herself into the saddle. The baby's lips were bluish and his small chest heaved as he fought to breathe. If this were his child and it was so close to dying, Adam knew he would be distressed past comforting and would be on his knees begging God not to take his son from him. Although Adam had his doubts about God's existence, thinking it was more like a mythology than anything else, he could understand how having a child could force anyone to grasp at a power higher than man's, anything to save a suffering child.

Adam tied the sacks to the saddle by the back strings and with Muriel Abernathy sitting on Zeus, he handed up the child and shortened the stirrup leathers, first one than the other. He helped Muriel place her feet in the stirrups and noticed the dirt line on her ankles above the shoes; she also had a strong smell about her, like a well-used whore. "There, now you're set. I'll lead him once I get on the other horse. Just keep a grip on Nathan and the saddle horn."

Adam, holding onto the other horse's reins, grabbed the mane with one hand and resting the other above the rump, managed to jump up and by leaning forward, seat himself, exerting more effort than he would have even five years ago. His lower back was still sore and getting on the bare-backed horse had aggravated it. If it weren't for Muriel Abernathy and her child, he would ask Sigrid to rub liniment on it but with the company he was bringing home, Adam considered he didn't want to turn his back on his wife.

~ 0 ~

Sigrid didn't know how to feel when she looked out the window and saw Adam ride up on a strange horse, pulling Zeus with Muriel Abernathy sitting atop the animal. She stepped outside and Adam had already jumped off the horse and had reached up for the infant.

"Adam," she said, "what is going on?" She noticed Mrs. Abernathy's black eye and split lip

"Sigrid, trust me. Please. Here, take the child. I'll explain." Adam placed the baby in Sigrid's arms and went to help Mrs. Abernathy off the horse. Sigrid looked down at the bundle in her arms. When she saw the child and heard his rough breathing, she knew why they were there.

Mr. Goron, who had been sitting in the sun reading his Bible, had walked over and stood next to Sigrid. "What is ailing the babe?" he asked.

Mrs. Abernathy heard him and said in a fearful voice, "My child can't breathe right and he coughs like a…I can't describe it but it sounds like some odd barking. He can't eat for coughing – he just chokes on my milk."

Mr. Goron looked at the suffering child. "Now, I was the second of nine children, one of four who lived past their third year, but I well remember my younger brother Jago. He was a sickly child, that one, albeit he made it to a man, but I remember my sainted mother sittin' in our kitchen holding Jago with a pot of water boilin' on the stove and the doors and windows closed. She'd come out with her cheeks red and her hair plastered about her face from the steam, but Jago would be breathin' easy and able to eat. It may work for this tiny bairn as well."

Mrs. Abernathy took Nathan from Sigrid and held him close, looking hopefully at Sigrid. It was Sigrid's house and Sigrid's kitchen.

"I think we should try it," Sigrid said. "Let's go start a pot of water. Come in, Mrs. Abernathy."

"Sigrid," Adam said. "I think the washhouse would be better. It's small and the door can be closed. I'll go start the fire and put on the full wash pot."

Sigrid looked at Mrs. Abernathy and then back to Adam. "Yes, I think that would be best. While you take care of that, Adam, I'll…Mrs. Abernathy, I'll tend to your lip; it looks as if it could use some stitches."

"Oh, no! That'll hurt worse than Len's knuckles."

"Well, at least we can clean it and put a cool cloth on your eye. And perhaps you'd like a hot cup of coffee and some bread, butter and jam. I have plum and lilly pilly" Despite her feelings about Mrs. Abernathy and her obvious lack of cleanliness, Sigrid put an arm about her shoulders and guided her up the porch stairs and into the house.

"I can't very well eat when my child is so hungry and can't." The baby, still sucking in air, coughed like some odd animal.

"If you don't eat something, you won't be any good to him. Now come in." And Sigrid was anxious about the child, feared he would take his last breath any moment. How horrible to be his mother and perhaps have to sit and watch while the child you carried and birthed suffered and there was nothing you could do.

Finally, Mrs. Abernathy who asked to be called Muriel, sat in the steamy washhouse with her baby. Mr. Goron, after helping Adam with the horses, went back to sitting with his Bible on his bench, smoking his pipe, his small glasses that he wore only to read, perched on his nose.

~ 0 ~

"I'm glad you feel the same way," Adam said, sitting at the table and drinking a mug of coffee. He had explained to Sigrid why he had brought Muriel Abernathy and her child home with him.

"I understand why, Adam, I do." Sigrid sat across from him, warming her hands on the sides of the coffee cup. "But what do we do with her now?"

"I wish I knew. I tried to figure things out on the way from their place. What I considered," he said leaning toward her, "was that they could stay here until the child is well or at least better and then I'd take her to Barakula. Maybe she can get work there. I just wish I could do more for them."

Sigrid smiled at her husband. She couldn't change him and thought perhaps she shouldn't even try. "We could give her some money to get started. But my concern is, where will she and the baby sleep while they're here?"

Adam looked at her from under his brows. "That is a problem. They can't sleep in the barn, in the room there, because Mr. Goron sleeps there. Since we have just the one bed, you two could sleep together with the baby and I'll sleep down here."

"Adam, she….she smells bad."

For the first time that day, Adam laughed. Looking at him, Sigrid began to laugh as well. And they were once again aligned with one another.

"Well," Adam said, still chuckling, "maybe you can take the baby for a bit and suggest she take a bath. If not, well, you can sleep in my arms down here." He smiled. How nice to be able to talk with Sigrid about Muriel Abernathy and not have her be jealous.

"I hope she takes my siggestion…" Sigrid stood up. "I'd better go check on her and the baby." She pulled her shawl off the back of the chair and wrapped it about her but before going outside, she went around the table and kissed Adam's cheek.

"Thank you for that," Adam said. He left his coffee and rose to go to the window where he watched Sigrid walk to the washhouse. He was still uneasy about bringing Muriel and her child to the house. He knew he couldn't leave her in the cold wagon with no food and a sick child but he also knew she was another man's wife and considering the type of man Len Abernathy was, he wouldn't take to his wife not being there on their property when he returned – if he returned. What would a man like Len do under those conditions? He more than likely thought of his wife and child as his possessions. He stepped onto the front porch, looking about. Mr. Goron, sitting on his bench, looked up and then went back to scripture. Sigrid stepped out of the washhouse and seeing Adam, smiled.

Adam waited and when Sigrid reached him, she put her arms about his waist, gazing up at him. He looked down at her, his arms about her shoulders.

"You're a good man, Adam Cartwright."

"About time you realized it." Adam said, teasing her. "But then, most women say that about me but not for the same reason."

"Oh, Adam." She stepped back. "But baby Nathan is now nursing just fine – Muriel is so relieved, she cried. I'll have to let Mr. Goron know his mother's treatment worked."

"He'll be glad to know it. Go tell him." Adam watched Sigrid go to inform Mr. Goron about Nathan. But he kept scanning the furthest reach of the property line; he was uneasy now and wouldn't rest until Muriel Abernathy and her child were gone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks to all of you for reading. Thought I could end with this chapter but it looks like I need Chapter 15 to do so. Thanks for hanging in. **

**Fourteen**

The next day when Nama with her plodding, flat-footed gait approached the house, she noticed Mr. Goron sitting on his bench while cradling a shotgun in his arms. She nodded to him and he told her, "Good morning."

"Why you sitting with a gun?"

"The Mister put me out here to watch the place while he's away at the mine. There may be a bushranger on the loose."

"One live not too far," Nama said. "Digs holes looking for gold. He is mean man."

"Oh, that one," Mr. Goron said, sheepishly. It seemed these Aborigines knew everything. "Yes, his wife is here with their baby."

"You see him," Nama said, "you shoot him dead." Then she walked on to the house. Mr. Goron wished he could take such sound advice and remain within the parameters of what little law ruled out in the bush and had even suggested such to the Mister. But he had said that the law kept a man civilized and it was best to abide by it. Mr. Goron had mumbled that was good and well and if only the bushrangers would apply it, life would be as wonderful as shitting gold pellets.

While Nama and Sigrid cleaned the house, scrubbing the floors and hanging the wash on the line, all under Mr. Goron's protective eye, Muriel sat on the porch and rocked Nathan, singing to him. Although the child was back to nursing, he didn't have enough energy to do much of anything except sleep.

Before the work day began, when introduced by Sigrid, Nama and Muriel talked babies, the problems of raising them and their illnesses and Nama gave advice for herbs and such. Nama also scratched a mystical pattern in the dirt, a call for healing from the powers that inhabited the elements, and although Muriel listened, Sigrid wondered what the woman thought. And Sigrid felt left out – she felt her arms were empty when they should be cuddling a child. She felt an intense longing for a child of her own. But she rebuked herself at the petty reason for conceiving – just so she could join in the conversation. How would it be to have a sick child out there is the wild with no doctor? She decided she was better off without such a delicate life to nurse through the years of childhood.

So, Sigrid smiled and listened as Nama told Muriel of Taree trying to stand alone. Nama laughed that no matter how much he toppled over, he stubbornly tried over and over to stand alone and then Muriel revealed she was with child again and Nama shook her head, telling her it was too soon, too soon for one child to follow so closely on another.

It was late afternoon when Kulan and Ekala stood waiting for Nama. Mr. Goron, still sitting with his rifle but leaning forward, called loudly enough to be heard from inside the kitchen, "Mrs. Cartwright, Nama's people are here." But Nama had already opened the door and was half out the door before he finished speaking.

Sigrid stepped out with Nama and offered a piglet to take back with her. "I thought your family might like a roast pig to eat or maybe, to raise until it's bigger. Would you like one?"

Nama said nothing at first and glanced over at Kulan who slightly nodded. "Yes," Nama said. "That would be a good thing."

"Well, come choose the one you'd like." Sigrid and Nama walked to the pig sty, Kulan following, and stood watching as the piglets moved about while the sows lay reclining; the boar was kept in a separate pen and made low grunting, snuffling noises. Nama stepped in and grabbed one of the piglets by its hind legs. It squealed and wriggled but Nama held him tight.

"We thank you," Nama said as Kulan reached over and took the piglet from her. Walking a distance away, Kulan pulled a knife from a loop at his waist and expertly slit the piglet's throat. Then he slung it over his shoulder, holding it by its hind legs. The blood began to drain out of the body as he walked away, hitting him on his heels and the back of his leg. Nama and Ekala followed him, talking to one another.

Sigrid was shocked at the killing. She knew she should be hardened to such things, to chickens running about the yard one minute and hanging limply after Adam killed it for dinner. But pigs seemed different somehow. Maybe it was that they were small and excitable and squealed, but they seemed more alive than chickens and therefore, when they were slaughtered, they seemed more dead. And they were still pink and plump – almost like a … Sigrid shuddered, put the thought out of her mind and went back to the house.

"That was a kind thing you did," Mr. Goron said, "but I don't suppose you expected the man to kill it here."

"No, no, I didn't." She looked at the distant horizon. "I wish my husband were home."

"He'll be home soon enough. Oh, how's the bairn getting' on?"

"Oh, Nathan. He's much better. He's sleeping." She pulled her shawl tighter.

"That's good." Mr. Goron looked at Sigrid's face, noting her furrowed brow as she stared into the beyond, hoping to see Adam to ride up. "You needn't worry. He'll be here."

"Yes," She smiled weakly and went in to start dinner.

~ 0 ~

They stood talking in the kitchen as Adam suggested their voices might carry to the loft where Mrs. Abernathy slept with her child, if they talked in the parlor. He was still wearing his work clothes but in his stocking feet. Sigrid wore her nightgown and wool wrap. The stove made the kitchen warm and Adam sipped a final cup of hot coffee.

"If Abernathy's been to their wagon, he left no sign of it. It looked the same as last time, no new fire, nothing. Maybe he's gone for good but as long as he thinks I might buy his land, I expect him back. And if not that, for his wife." Adam finished his coffee and sat the cup in the sink. "That is, unless he says the wrong thing to the wrong man, which is very likely and won't ever return."

"But do you think Barakula is far enough away for Mrs. Abernathy? The last time I was there, Mrs. Hughes of the mercantile was talking about Abernathy buying a pick and shovel and a great deal of drink; her husband had to throw him out."

"We can't take care of her forever. I want to get her out of here Wednesday. We were going to go to Barakula anyway, we'll just make it day after tomorrow. Besides," he said, pulling Sigrid to him, "I miss sleeping with my wife." He bent down and kissed her, clutching her loose hair with one hand and gently pulling back her head while he ran his lips over her neck. "Oh, how I want you," he murmured and grasping her thighs, he lifted her onto the counter, pushing up her nightgown, her white thighs exposed.

"Adam, not here! What if…" She attempted to push her nightgown back down but he grasped her hands.

"Yes. Here, now…" And he pressed his mouth on hers while she wrapped her arms and legs about him.

~ 0 ~

Although he had checked the Abernathy property on his way to the mine that morning, finding it undisturbed, Adam decided to ride by again since he had left work early; they were waiting on new shoring timbers to be delivered so it was an early day for them all.

This time, the Abernathy campsite was different. As was his cautionary habit, Adam scanned the site first and seeing nothing and no one, he walked his horse into the opening. All looked the same as that morning - almost. There were fresh horse tracks and the imprint of boots that led to the wagon and back to the horse tracks and then off in the direction of the small cabin where he had stayed for a time.

"C'mon, Zeus. Let's go swing by and see if we have an illegal tenant" Adam kicked his horse to a slow canter, setting out toward the creek.

Smoke drifted from the cabin's chimney. Someone was there and Adam was sure it was Len Abernathy. Sitting his horse, Adam pondered what – if anything – he should do about the trespasser. When young, Adam was far more liberal about sharing with others, about paring off slivers of the Ponderosa to homesteaders who were honest and decent. But now that he was older and far less altruistic, he wanted to keep poachers and such off the land – his land that he sweat and struggled to maintain.

Adam slowly dismounted and looped Zeus' reins over a branch. The horse dropped its head, snuffling about for grass or anything edible. Adam unholstered his gun and walked along the tree line until he could approach the cabin without being seen. He crouched slightly and once on the low porch, put one hand out to try the door handle. Then he heard a voice say, "Just drop it, Cartwright."

Adam stood up and realized he had made an error, not first checking to see if the trespasser was anywhere else but in the cabin. And this was the result. He rebuked himself – he should have known better.

"So, it's you living on my property," Adam stated as he let the gun hang loosely in his hand. "I saw the smoke and was checking on it."

Abernathy held his shotgun on Adam. "You bet your arse, it's me livin' here. Now toss that gun of yours over here by me."

"Why?" Adam thought quickly of any possible way he could get out of the situation all in one piece. Abernathy stood about 15 yards away and the shotgun had a range of about 50 yards but that meant the spread of the shot would be wide enough that he would be hard to miss. But Len's gun was old and the sight might be bent. And Adam didn't know what kind of shot Len used,

"Cause I told you to. Now throw that goddamn gun over here - underhand."

"Or?"

"Or I'll shoot you dead."

"You don't leave me much of a choice." Adam considered hurling the gun straight at the man's head, but Len might still pull the trigger and the shotgun blast would still cause him damage, so he lightly tossed the gun near Len's feet. Len stepped toward it and watching Adam, picked it up and slid it into his waistband.

"Now, where's my wife?" Len still held Adam at gunpoint.

"What makes you think I know?"

"Because I'm not stupid. She's not at the wagon and my other horse is gone along with my son. You always liked her so I'm guessing she's with you and your wife. I'm also guessing you're having a grand time with two women in your bed now."

Adam struggled to stay calm; he needed to outwit Abernathy or at least reduce the threat of Len's shotgun. "Your wife and child are at my place – you're correct in that. But they were hungry and freezing out there in the wagon so now they're warm and fed and clean. And that's it. There's nothing else between your wife and me and why you think there is, I don't know unless it's just your deranged imagination. Now, I think I can get your wife and child and bring them out here. All of you can stay here until you find a place to go – that is if you still want to sell your property to me. My wife said you did."

"Well, I changed my mind since then. See, I've been up and down a-ways along the creek, and I've found a few of them blue stones – a few green ones as well, and I think I want the property where you got your house and barn and such. So, I was considering a trade – my land for your land. I don't want all your property, 'though I'm tempted to bargain for it, seein' that I have the upper hand." Len smiled, his tan teeth showing. "But I don't want to be too greedy. You and your wife can live here in this little cabin – for a while, that is. I just want your acres with the creek running through it. Oh, and you get to stay alve in the bargain. What do you say about that?"

Adam was tempted to say that the only land Abernathy would get from him would be the dirt covering a hole about six feet down, but he kept quiet. Len wasn't stupid, wasn't even drunk but steady on his feet. "Again, you don't leave me much choice."

Len laughed heartily. "That's right. How's it feel, Cartwright, to be the one at another's mercy? Let me tell you something, you high and mighty bastard. I don't have a single shred of mercy for people like you. You got everything you could ever want and only want more. Now I want some for me." And he swung up the shotgun and pulled the trigger. Adam, sensing more than seeing the movement, turned to leap off the side of the porch but the blast hit him from behind and he dropped on the wooden porch.

Len Abernathy walked to the porch and climbed the few rickety steps. Adam lay face down and Len roughly pushed him onto his back with his foot. He looked down at Adam and smirked. The left side of Adam's head was bleeding, his hair matted with the blood that flowed onto the wooden boards. Len raised his shotgun, intending to shoot Adam in the face, wanting to destroy his looks. He aimed but couldn't bring himself to blow Adam's face open. His hand shook and he cursed under his breath and told himself that blowing apart his skull was enough.

Len rested his shotgun against a porch rail and went through Adam's pockets. He pulled out the wallet and rifled through, pulling out the script from the Darby bank and folded it before putting them in his own pocket. He loosely tossed the leather wallet on the porch. Then he checked Adam's other pockets and found a folding knife, the handle made of decorated whalebone with silver findings and the blade was razor sharp. Len smiled and put that in his other pants pocket.

Len stepped back and looked at the cabin. He could set it afire and then the cabin and Adam's corpse would turn to ash. But that might attract attention as the smoke and flames might be spotted by the miners. Then, that man who was Cartwright's partner could hire a lawman in some nearby town to investigate and Len was already on the run from the law, having escaped a penal colony a few years ago. And he had killed a guard doing that. He had avoided the law for such a long time he couldn't let one foolish mistake do him in.

Len became nervous and looked about. He hadn't intended to murder Adam Cartwright, but had been staying here until he could make a plan about getting the money he needed. Len was a man who always had a plan but damn it all, so few of his plans worked. Flies were already buzzing about Adam's bloody head, landing in the blood. Len considered burying him, hiding the evidence. But there was no shovel about – not even in the cowshed. Len grabbed Adam's feet and began to pull him off the porch. He struggled; he hadn't been aware how large Adam Cartwright was. He knew Cartwright was tall but decided he must weigh over two hundred. As Len pulled, Adam's head hit against each step and then, Len struggled to drag the body across the yard and to the creek. Twice, Len had to stop and catch his breath and the sweat rolled down his cheeks. Finally, they were at the creek's edge and Len pulled the body about so that all he needed to do was roll the body over twice and into the water. The body began to move as the water swirled about it. Slowly, it was being pulled away from the edge and began to float out further.

"Thanks for the money," Len said, smiling although inside, Len was scared. "And since you won't be going anywhere but down the creek, I'll be taking your horse as well." And laughing to himself, Len Abernathy trudged up to the porch and fetching his shotgun, he looked at the back flies buzzing about the blood. He snorted with disgust and then went to the tree where Zeus was tied and mounted the horse and rode off. It would be dark in another half hour and he needed to hurry to get to the house.

~ 0 ~

Sigrid had three buckets of milk, more milk than they could use before it went sour. One bucket could go into the pig mash and she left it in the barn. She would tell Mr. Goron. Sigrid struggled with the two buckets but sat them down inside the barn. She needed Mr. Goron to carry the buckets. She could manage them alone if she had to, had done so before, but since he was there and not off working on the property, she would ask him. And she needed to start dinner.

There were too many cows that needed milking, in Sigrid's opinion, and it had to be done twice a day. She knew she would need someone to help her if Adam expected to profit from the thick, creamy Jersey milk. They were too far from Barakula to sell milk there and it was always such a waste to pour it into the mash but she was overwhelmed with milk and cream and butter-churning and now cheese making. She knew Adam worked from morning to dusk, but it hardly seemed just or fair that she should be so burdened with caring for all these animals, despite Mr. Goron's help with the pigs and horses. But Mrs. Abernathy wouldn't make a good milk maid; she didn't care for the creatures themselves but did enjoy their milk. She even gave a bit to Nathan who eagerly sucked on the rag she would dip into the glass. And Sigrid felt a bit ashamed at thinking that Muriel was like a big cow herself with her full, swinging breasts full of milk and her slow, bovine ways.

"Mr. Goron," Sigrid said, stepping out of the barn, "I need help…." Mr. Goron wasn't on the porch where he had been sitting or standing all day. "Mr. Goron?" She waited but there was no reply. Her pulse stepped up and she walked further out into the yard, looking about. All was quiet except for a few birds and other natural sounds. She gingerly walked to the house. Perhaps Muriel had called him inside for help.

"Mr. Goron?" Sigrid stopped. The house was silent. He should have heard her calling as the window in the kitchen was partially open and so was the one on the side of the house that faced the yard, that is if he was inside. But Muriel didn't come to the door either and she must have heard. Sigrid walked to the house, looking about her and noticed a few spots of blood on the wall behind the chair. She quietly took each step, hoping none would creak and give her away. Sigrid slowly opened the door and let out a sigh of relief when she saw Muriel on the settee, Nathan in her arms, sleeping. That was why, Sigrid conjectured, Muriel hadn't called out to answer. But a smell like a rotting animal came to her and caused her nose to wrinkle in distaste.

"Muriel, do you know where Mr. Goron is? I need his help with the milk buckets and…" Sigrid stopped, stunned. Len Abernathy stood leaning against the wall that partially separated the kitchen from the house, drinking a cup of coffee and holding the shotgun loosely at his side.

"Well, well, the lady of the house. The one who wouldn't even give me a charitable cup of coffee t'other day. I helped myself to this one." He raised the up to her, smiling.

"Where's Mr. Goron?" Sigrid asked, pulling herself up.

"If you're talking about the old man who was sitting outside, well, I told him to get, to dash off, and he did. Run away liked a scared bunny."

Sigrid knew it wasn't true but she didn't think she wanted to know the truth. She stood rooted to the spot.

"Len," Muriel Abernathy pled, "I told you they helped me and Nathan. Can't we just leave now and go back to our place?"

"Shut your mouth, woman," Len said. "I told you – we don't have to leave. They do. This is now our place. Now you, Mrs. Cartwright, sit down at the table here and listen to good sense. I don't want to give him the blunt end of my shotgun that'll make your eyes roll in your head just 'cause you wouldn't listen."

Sigrid, looking at Muriel, saw the woman was weeping, tears slowly coursing down her cheeks. Sigrid pulled out a chair and sat down. "Where's my husband?" Sigrid shakily asked. Adam would never allow such a thing. And if Len didn't know where Adam was, then it meant Adam was still at the mine.

"By now, I'd say he's a long way from here. Left in the direction of Brisbane, he did. I'd say he's heading back to America in such a hurry he may decide to swim there!" Len said. "You see, we had a quick game of mumblety-peg and he lost. I won not only his land which was the stake, but I also won the knife." Len pulled out the whalebone knife and flashed it. Sigrid saw blood on the blade. "So now this piece of property, this house, the animals, everything is mine, and your husband is gone – ran off and left you. Now, Mrs. Cartwright, you need to pack a few of your things and then get out. You can stay in that little cabin down close to the creek – for a bit. No more than a week or I'll have to roust you. And you can take one of them horses – not the one that's heavy – I want the foal, but any other," Len said, walking toward her with his cup of coffee. "But before you go, how about fixing some victuals for me and my family?"

"Why should I?"

"Because you don't want to defy me, do you?" Len took a few steps towards her and she suddenly knew the source of the rank smell in the house.

"No, not at all." Sigrid thought of what she could say to soothe Len Abernathy's ruffled feathers. "I'll go make dinner now. Biscuits and bacon? Or I can go to the smokehouse and we can have ham and potatoes."

Len considered. "No, I don't want you taking off yet which you might do if I let you out. Why, I may even want you to stay the night, tie you down and enjoy you for a bit. You are a pretty one and since you haven't a husband around no more to give you a root, well, after me and a good one, you may not even want to leave." He grinned at Sigrid.

"I'll go start the biscuits." Sigrid slowly stood. "Are you all right, Muriel?"

Len slammed the butt of the shotgun on the floor. "I won't have any womanly palavering. Now make my supper."

Sigrid edged her way past Abernathy and into the kitchen. And as she prepared the biscuits and sliced the bacon, she prayed for Adam, prayed he was all right. But doubt creeped into her heart. Of course, Len was lying. But he had Adam's birthday gift, the knife she had bought him. How had Len come so close to Adam that he now had it if no harm had come to her husband. And so she prayed to the Holy Mother, prayed for Adam's life and protection and hoped it wasn't too late. Although Lazarus had risen from the dead, she knew miracles such as that never happened anymore – but she could still pray.

She moved to look out the window, hoping to see Adam riding up. She would run out the door, scream for him to ride away, that Len Abernathy was in the house and to save himself. Len would probably shoot her in the back but Adam would be safe, he would be safe. And he would avenge her death. She was about to turn away from the window and back to the oven when a cloud moved, revealing the moon and in the glistening, white light, she saw legs and boots lying near the far side of the barn, Mr. Goron's scuffed, heavy boots. Whether he was alive or dead, she couldn't tell, but she knew now where he was. And Sigrid began to plot.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

The icy water, smothering him, shocked Adam to consciousness and suddenly he was struggling to keep his head above water, gasping desperately for air. His head throbbed with pain and it was dark, very dark as he floundered about, being pulled along by the churning waters. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in the quick moving creek and knew he needed to get to its edge. He fought the current until he was almost too exhausted to care what happened to him, his soaked clothes pulling him under. Then the toe of one boot scraped the creek bed as he moved along. That was all he needed; he was close to the edge of the creek with a chance of staying alive and he very much wanted to stay alive. Adam struggled more until he could finally feel the swirling gravel under both feet but the water still threatened to drag him along. He lurched and dug in his heels until he finally managed to move closer to the grassy edge. Slowly, the water level dropped from chest-high to his waist and then to his knees as he slogged toward the edge until he collapsed, his upper body flat on the dirt and grass, his legs and feet still in the churning water. His teeth chattered from the chill of the winter evening and his soaked clothing.

"Oh, hell. After all that, I'm going to freeze to death." Adam chuckled to himself, rolled over, and opened his eyes. He realized that although it was night, he should be able to see better. There was something wrong with his left eye; it wouldn't focus. He touched that side of his head and the throbbing turning into intense pain; his scalp was peppered with shot. "That sonovabitch, that goddamn sonovabitch shot me – may he rot in hell!" Adam lightly touched the skin near his left eye, winced, and felt a few small pellets. One dislodged and dropped into his hand. Adam rolled it about between his fingers, barely able to see it but knowing that he was lucky – it was bird shot and small pellets at that.

Dragging himself across the ground, Adam pulled himself completely out of the water. He sat shivering and tried to think past the pain in his head and the left side of his face. Fear for his condition and his blurred vision threatened to grab him by the throat but he pushed it aside. He wouldn't die out there – couldn't - but he had to keep warm somehow. Somehow. But where was he? Adam had been at the cabin but was sure he was quite a way downstream by now the way the water had pushed him along. He had come out of the water on his left side so he was on the side of the creek of his home. And Sigrid. He had to try to reach Sigrid in case Abernathy went there, but his shaking and chattering teeth were almost debilitating. The combination of the cold, his wet clothes and his injury was threatening to send him into shock. Adam had seen it before. So many injured soldiers during wartime had gone into shock before they died. Even Joe had once gone into shock and Adam had to fight to keep him alive, keep him warm and safe. And now he had to fight for himself. Len Abernathy was on the loose and although Mr. Goron had been left in charge, Adam wanted desperately to see to Sigrid himself. So, he stood, put one foot in front of the other and struggled to move along the creek side, listening to the sound of water and trying to get past the dizziness that made him want to vomit. He stumbled over roots and rocks and almost slammed into a tree. He heard someone's rasping sobs – but who was it? Suddenly, Adam realized he was the one uttering the wrenching sobs as he struggled along, trying desperately to get to Sigrid.

His suede trail jacket was heavy with the water it had absorbed, weighing him down, and he didn't know whether to shirk it off and continue, hoping he would be warmer without it, or to keep it on. Moving might warm him to a degree but he pulled one arm from the wet jacket sleeve and was surprised at the sudden coldness. He put the jacket back on and kept moving headfirst into the unfamiliar surroundings. The toe of a boot caught on something and he slammed down on the ground, his right shoulder landing heavily on a stone. He sat up and cursed the heavens, Len Abernathy, the Morgan/Cartwright mine and Australia. He rocked back and forth, rubbing his shoulder. Testing his arm, he tried to flex his hand but the pain shot up his arm and into his neck. Adam considered his situation and decided he couldn't continue blindly making his way, it was not getting him anywhere so he stood up and looked at the night sky.

"Think, boy, think!" he told himself. The stars – what stars are to the west? Adam scanned the sky, trying to concentrate despite the pain in his head and shoulder and the stinging near his injured left eye. "Okay, what's that constellation? Named after the creature Hercules fought…Hydra. That's it. Look for it." Adam knew Hydra, the "water snake" constellation, would be low in the western sky this early in the evening, but it was observable during the winter months. Shivering, Adam looked at the sky in the direction he believed was the west and moved his eyes across the area. "There!" He told himself. "There's the beginning of the line of stars and there's Libra to the south." He was so relieved, he laughed. He knew where he stood in relation to the world about him – and he headed west toward home.

~ 0 ~

"I'm sorry," Muriel said, standing next to Sigrid in the kitchen. She had placed sleeping Nathan on the settee and Len was relaxing in Adam's chair, his feet on the ottoman, Mr. Goron's rifle across his lap, his own shotgun resting against the far wall while he waited for his dinner. "I wish I had said something to you before you came in, yelled something so's you'd run and not come in the house, but…I know what Len can do if he's angry and I am with child again."

Glancing over at the woman, Sigrid felt a twinge of sympathy. But then, there was Mr. Goron lying dead out by the barn. And perhaps, even Adam. "I understand that he might beat you – again - but he is a killer. I don't know how you can allow that man… he may be your husband, but…"

"What do you mean, a killer?" Muriel seemed surprised at Sigrid's accusation.

Keeping her voice low, Sigrid said, "He killed Mr. Goron. Don't you know that?"

Muriel's mouth dropped open. "No. Mr. Goron left. Len told me so."

"And you just believed him because he's your husband." Sigrid was angry with Muriel's stupidity as to what her husband really was. Suddenly, Sigrid remembered what her father had said to her about Adam. But her father had been wrong. Adam had proved himself to her, shown that her father's opinion of him was wrong. And she wasn't wrong about Len Abernathy; he had proved what he was as well.

Muriel's face became stiff. "We weren't church-married, Len and me. Not many about here are, but we're married just the same. We just chose each other and up to now, up to since he found the gems, he's been a good husband to me, provided for Nathan and me both. It's the lure of big money that's changed him."

"You can believe what you want, Muriel, but I see what he is." Sigrid looked intently at Muriel, saying nothing more, and after a few seconds, Muriel left the kitchen and wielding a fork, Sigrid turned the thick, popping strips of bacon.

The platter was piled with bacon strips and another plate was stacked with fluffy, browned biscuits. Sigrid had put the gravy in a small, blue, ironstone pitcher she had bought from Mr. Naples, the peddler. And although she had placed the coffeepot on the table as well, she still stood while Len sat and piled the food on his plate, slicing open the biscuits, putting folded slices of bacon in between the tops and bottoms, and smothering it all with hot gravy. Muriel sat as well and took a biscuit and poured a small amount of gravy on it, not meeting Sigrid's eye.

With his mouth full, Len pointed his fork at Sigrid and asked, "Aren't you going to eat? There best not be anything wrong with this food or I'll even up with you before I go to my maker."

"I thought that perhaps you would like some brandy for your coffee?" Earlier, Sigrid had remembered the two bottles of expensive brandy in the bottom of the cupboard; Adam was saving them for a celebration as they had been costly. The thought of Len Abernathy pouring his expensive brandy down his gullet would enrage Adam, but she surmised, if Len drank enough, he would be too drunk to do anything if she chose to escape the house and run to the Morgans for help.

Len swallowed his partially chewed food. "Why spoil a good bottle of spirits with coffee? Bring me the bottle and a glass." He slammed one hand on the table.

Sigrid fetched one bottle and a glass and sat them at Len's right hand.

"Now sit down and eat," Len ordered Sigrid.

"I'm not very hungry," she said.

"Sit down like I told you and eat. Like I said, if there's something wrong with the food, you'll suffer the same as us."

Sigrid sat and took a biscuit, splitting it in half and pouring gravy over it. Then she ate, forcing herself to swallow and washing it down with coffee.

"Now, that's better," Len said, smiling, showing the food in his mouth. He poured himself a glass of brandy and tossed it down, giving a small gasp after swallowing. "That's right good." He poured himself another glass, held it up to toast Sigrid, and then ate his dinner and drank more brandy and soon the bottle was almost empty.

Nathan woke, crying and Muriel went to him. "Oh, he's wet," she said and proceeded to change the fussing infant.

Len took another drink and frowned. "Babies. They're always crying and shitting and pissing. And now we're to have another. Good thing we have this house now." He smiled at Sigrid again. "Now, after Muriel and that brat go up to bed, you and me are going to have a little party. I'll show you what a real man can do for a woman." Sigrid only stared, not wanting to reveal that her heart was hammering in her chest.

After having drunk the first bottle of brandy, Sigrid fetched the second one. "Two of 'em, eh? You'd make me a good wife – you know what makes a man happy. Good drink and a sweet spot between a woman's legs – far better than a sweet spot in a woman's heart!" Len roared with laughter and Muriel glared at him from the setttee, then quickly glanced at Sigrid to judge her reaction to the comment. But Sigrid's face was a mask of blank emotion.

"Len," Muriel said, "you should watch what you say." She pulled the blanket about the baby.

"Goddamn you, woman! Take that brat and get away up in the loft! Speak to me like that again and I'll have you spending the night in the sty with only the boar to cover you!" Then Len roared with laughter at the sexual pun he had inadvertently made. Muriel picked up her child and looking at Sigrid once more, this time with their eyes meeting, Muriel carefully climbed the laddered stairs up to the loft.

Taking the brandy bottle and the rifle with him, Len sat down on the settee, patting the seat. "Now, you come sit down with me and we'll share this bottle. Get yourself a glass."

"I don't drink spirits," Sigrid said.

"The more for me then. But you best come sit down afore I come for you." He put the rifle on the floor and took a long swig from the bottle. Once more, he ordered Sigrid to sit down and she slowly walked over and did, gritting her teeth. Len reached over and fondled her breasts with one hand, pinching them as well and then slid it up her dress, pushing the skirt up. She pushed his hands gently away and he became angry and grabbed her wrist. "You think you're too damn good for the likes of me, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, you may think that being poked by Adam Cartwright is such a great thing but I'll have you kissing my feet and blubbering for more of what I got waiting in my trousers."

Panic began in her breast and she wanted to scream and run out the door but kept herself as calm as she knew if she ran, Len Abernathy would only take out after her, snatch her back by her hair and then slam a fist into her face and throw up her skirts. She swallowed, determined to keep her voice from quavering. "Adam always wants a back rub before we have…relations. He says it relaxes him – makes everything more pleasant. Would you like a back rub…Len?" She forced herself to smile even though her mouth was so dry from fear, her lips stuck to her teeth. She coyly dropped her eyes.

"So that's what he likes, eh? What's good enough for Adam Cartwright is good enough for me." Sigrid stood up while Len took another long swallow from the bottle, corked it, and then pulled off his shirt and lay on his stomach on the settee, one hand resting on the rifle.

Sigrid sat on the edge of the cushions and began to rub his shoulders. She detested touching him. He had taken off his jacket earlier in the evening and now his filthy, sweat-stained shirt, but Sigrid noticed he still stank. His greasy hair lay on one of the small pillows and Sigrid swore she would burn it if she lived through this – might even drag the settee out in the yard and set fire to the whole thing to rid her home of Len Abernathy's reek. But as Len Abernathy relaxed, the alcohol finally worked its magic and soon he was drunkenly snoring. She lightly let off rubbing his back and shoulders and stood up. Should she set the settee afire with him on it and burn him alive? If Adam was dead, she wouldn't want the house anyway and could live without the belongings upstairs. She would take the money first, of course, as she would need it. Or maybe she should just go get a butcher knife and plunge it into his back. Would that be murder?

It would be. She knew what Adam would say about a woman who would do such a thing. She would be a murderess, killing a sleeping man. But if that man had killed her husband, killed their hired man, would it then be murder? Perhaps not cold-blooded murder, Adam would say, but it would be a revenge killing.

Sigrid went to the tree stand to put her heavy shawl about her shoulders and quietly went out the kitchen door, pressing it shut. So far, her plan had worked and Len Abernathy was in a drunken sleep. She would run to the Morgans and bring Caleb back with her to help dealing with the Abernathys. As she stepped toward the front of the house, Sigrid averted her eyes to avoid seeing Mr. Goron's boots but couldn't help herself – she glanced and they were gone. Sigrid stopped. Had an animal dragged him away? No, no animal was big enough and although she had read about dingoes, they didn't live in this area of Australia. Slowly walking about the side of the barn, Sigrid softly called, "Mr. Goron? Mr. Goron, are you there?" But it wasn't Mr. Goron who answered her – it was Adam.

"Sigrid. It's me." Adam was relieved to see her' she was all right.

Sigrid rushed to him and saw Mr. Goron, his eyes closed, was siting and resting his head against the barn wall, blood staining the front of his shirt, mixed with the dirt where he had lain. Adam kneeled in front of him and in the light from the partial moon, Sigrid saw that one side of Adam's face looked odd and his hair was matted with shiny, fresh blood; he was shivering uncontrollably.

"Oh, Adam, I thought you must be dead – and Mr. Goron too."

"We both about are. He's lost a lot of blood – looks like Len stabbed him close to the artery in his neck and then dragged him out here. I helped him sit up – he was lying in the dirt. Before he passed out, he told me – didn't know about you. I need to get him inside and staunch the bleeding – and I'm…I'm in a bad way, Sigrid."

"Adam, what's wrong with…" She touched his face and he pulled away, wincing.

"That bastard, Abernathy, shot me. I guess I'm lucky he used birdshot for ammo so the damage is limited but my left eye – I'm having trouble with it. Everything is blurry and my right shoulder is, I can't quite use my hand." Adam tried to keep his teeth from chattering. "I'm so cold. The sonovabitch dumped me in the creek and I'm freezing my balls off. We need to get inside. Is Abernathy there?"

"Yes, but he passed out. I gave him the two bottles of brandy and he drank almost both of them."

"Shit. My two bottles of good French brandy?"

"Adam," Sigrid said, "never mind the brandy. Can you help Mr. Goron inside?"

"Before I do, Sigrid, go into the barn and see if Mr. Goron has a weapon hidden. I can't find his rifle anywhere about."

"His rifle's in the house. Abernathy has it. But I'll go look in his room." Sigrid hurried to the barn and slowly pried the door open. She slipped inside once the opening was wide enough and the animals snuffled and nickered, shuffling their hooves at her intrusion. It was dark inside the barn, having only a few windows, and she felt her way along the wall until she found the door to his room and going in, she stood, looking about. She had never been inside Mr. Goron's room but it was tidy and simply furnished. She opened a chest at the foot of the bunk and felt around inside. From what she could tell, all that was there were clothes. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by then and she looked about but saw nothing that resembled a weapon. But there was a coiled rope hanging on a peg.

Once she found Adam and Mr. Goron again, they were near the kitchen door, Adam holding up an unconscious Mr. Goron, his head lolling.

"I couldn't find anything, no weapon at all but I did find this." She held out the rope.

"Good. I'm going to go inside," Adam said. Now that they were standing near the lighted window, Sigrid could see Adam's face better. No wonder he couldn't see well from that eye as birdshot was peppering his left temple, a few close to his eye. She knew she needed to pick out the shot, at least as much as she could, as soon as she could.

"All right." Sigrid said. "I'll go in first and get the rifle or the shotgun. I'm sure Abernathy's still out on the settee."

"No, no," Adam said, grabbing her with his free hand, but the pain that shot up his arm made him quickly release her. "Damn this shoulder. Look, Sigrid, I'll go in first."

"Adam, don't be so brave because it's just foolish. You can't squeeze a trigger with that hand. I'll get the rifle and then we'll be armed."

Adam stared at Sigrid. "You're quite the woman, you know that?" He grinned as best he could. "But I can't let you do it."

"I'm not asking your permission. Put your manly pride aside for a moment. I'll go in and get the rifle. You can hold it on Len with your left hand and I'll…" Sigrid hadn't planned on these developments. "I can wrap this rope so securely about his ankles and hands, he'll never be able to be free of it."

"Caught like a fly in a spider's web, huh?" Adam asked, half smiling.

"Yes," She said, smiling and moving to Adam, she kissed his right cheek. "I love you, husband. Now, let me go in first."

"No, Sigrid, listen…"

She pulled away and turned the doorknob while Adam struggled to lower Mr. Goron before trying to overtake her. But she was quick and he remained a few steps behind her, begging her to stop, to not be foolhardy. But she didn't hesitate and saw Len Abernathy still asleep on the couch just as she had left him. She tentatively stepped toward him and reached down for the rifle – and Len's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"You little bitch!" he snarled. He released her and reached for the rifle. Sigrid saw the partially full brandy bottle, grabbed it by the neck and swung it; the bottle smashed against the left side of Abernathy's face, spraying brandy and glass shards, some of which lodged in his flesh. He yelped, grabbing his face, and Adam, rushed over and pulled Sigrid aside while snatching up the rifle and pointing it at the writhing Len Abernathy.

And Sigrid felt her legs go weak.

~ 0 ~

_27 July 1870_

_Käraste Far, _

_I hope this letter finds you and Mrs. Hellström in good health and that all is well at home. Although you are experiencing summer in Nevada, we are going through very cold weather as it is the midst of winter. I always feel a bit disoriented reconciling the month of the year with the weather! _

_We went through a bit of bad luck a few months ago, but things are turning out for the better. It is wonderful indeed, when good blooms from misfortune as I believe God always provides when malevolence takes a foothold._

_You see, Adam had an unfortunate accident and injured his left eye. The vision in that eye was unclear for a time but his friend Caleb Morgan drove the two of us to a doctor, Dr. Stewart, in Dalby as there are none close by. The doctor gave a positive prognosis and also recommended that Adam may benefit from magnifying spectacles for reading the print of contracts and such, as his eyesight is changing a bit as he grows older. So, it appears that except for some small scars about his eye and his scalp, Adam will recover completely. _

_A Cornish miner by the name of Mr. Goron, who has been working about the farm, was seriously wounded and it took quite a bit of nursing by me and some medicinal herbs, courtesy of Nama, the Aboriginal woman who helps with the housework, to get him back on his feet. He is now able to do small chores about the place and grows stronger every day. As for Nama, I have taught her to milk cows and I believe that she has come to enjoy the calm animals who stand so politely while we take their milk. In a few months, we will have three new calves in our small family of Jersey cows and Adam hopes to have a great herd of them one day._

_Another benefit of our trip to Dalby was that we purchased some new furniture for the house ~ our old settee became stained and therefore, unusable, and I have long desired new furniture anyway. Now we have a new 'Chesterfield'. That is what the style is called, a fancy settee with a tufted back and rolled and tufted arms. I smiled at the name but, Father, it is quite the elegant piece and I feel the grand lady owning it. It does look rather out of place here in our small home alongside a new chair and ottoman for Adam, but it won't be long, perhaps six more months, before the main part of our new house will be finished. I am pleased, but we will be without many furnishings until we can purchase them but I am already looking at catalogues. Adam is determined that I shall have the home I have wanted as quickly as possible. His architectural blueprints are taking shape before my eyes and he has hired a crew that hammers and saws all day except for Sundays. The new house will be a combination of wood and stones from the surrounding areas. And the firebox of the stone fireplace is so very large that I could make my home inside it!_

_I do wish that perhaps one day you will come to visit and bring Mrs. Hellström with you. We will have much space and many guest rooms and my hope is that you will live out your final years with us. Mrs. Hellström as well, as she has always been like a mother to me and perhaps one day, you will make her your wife. It would greatly please me. I know that Adam would like to have you here as well. Seriously consider it as I long to see you both._

_Please, Far, share this letter or at least the news it carries, with Mr. Cartwright. I know that the two of you are not the closest of friends but I have such good news to tell that I hope you will be more than eager to tell him. I am with child and the two of you will both be grandfathers this coming February or March. _

_Adam is overjoyed at the news and that is the reason he is so very determined to have a house for me and our child. Although I am a bit anxious, my friend Maddy Morgan and Nama as well as her mother Ekala have all sworn to be here when my time comes. _

_I am so happy that my love for all mankind fills my heart. I keep both you and Mrs. Hellström in my prayers and Far, I have grown to love my husband more with every passing day. I could not love Adam so much if he were not good and kind and loving in return. Please pray for us and wish us well and send your love, if not in person, in your thoughts that fly across the world in the flash of an angel's wings._

_I long to hear from you so please write._

_Din kärleksfulla och hängivna dotter,_

_Sigrid_

Ben Cartwright wiped tears from his eyes and looked across the room at Alvar Eklund who had accepted coffee and a plate of Hop Sing's delicate almond cookies.

"Well, Alvar, what good news from our chldren. Thank you for bringing the letter. You have made an old man very happy."

"Yes, well, and my daughter, well, it seems she is a happy wife. Perhaps I have misjudged Adam." Alvar placed the coffee cup back on the saucer.

"Yes. They seem very happy." Ben looked down at the letter again, smiling at the contents. Another grandchild. Another Cartwright.

Alvar stood and made a movement as if to take back the letter but Ben quickly asked, "May I read it again? Help yourself to more coffee, Alvar."

Alvar smiled. "Yes. Of course. One cannot read good news too many times." And he sat back down and reached for another cookie.

~ Finis ~


End file.
